


All Your Demons and Your Secrets

by Aniel_H



Category: DCU
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BDSM, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Top Clark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aniel_H/pseuds/Aniel_H
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kara calls Bruce to ask if he has seen Clark since the Superman visited Gotham few days ago, the Dark Knight decides to find Superman himself. He finds him but everything has its price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I've been working on this fanfic for some time now, and I finally decided to post it here. I tried to stay in character as much as possible. The Attempted Rape/Non-con tag applies (and probably will only apply) for the first chapter. Also, English is not my first language so please let me know if there are any mistakes, and the same goes if I forgot to add any tags. Anyway, I really hope you'll enjoy the story!

“What do you mean ‘he’s off the radar’?”

Dick stopped sipping his coffee. He was in the Batcave with Bruce. He dropped by to say hi to the rest of the family, only to find out that most of them were out on patrol today but Batman himself needed to do some calculations for Justice League. The only ones who were in the manor were Alfred, Bruce and Selina.

Her presence, though surprising, wasn’t unpleasant. It led to Dick and her having a conversation which was half-arguing, half-flirting to the point where Bruce had looked like he had been going to throw both of them out but before he could do that, he had received a call from Kara.

Ha! Like Dick was going to let Bruce kick him out when Alfred had just handed him the cup of coffee and tea to Selina.

Dick looked at Bruce who was frowning. He was in his Batsuit – they all were wearing the suits, but their cowls and mask were down. There was a short moment of silence when Selina was pretending to give her full attention to her tea but in fact was closely listening to the conversation Bruce was having over the phone with Clark’s cousin.

“Yesterday?” Bruce’s frown deepened and he started to write something on his console. “Yeah, I see him.”

Dick and Selina looked at the screen. There was a map showing part of the Gotham docks with a red dot on it, in the place where one of the storehouses were.

“Alright, I’ll try to get there,” Bruce said and hung up the phone.

“What’s the matter?” Dick asked before nonchalantly drinking from his cup.

“It’s probably nothing,” Bruce informed him, put the cowl back on and headed to the Batplane. “Superman was heading to the Gotham city yesterday and got lost.”

“Yesterday?” Dick wondered while Selina grinned and with a spark in his eyes asked: “Supes is in town?”

Bruce frowned at both of them as if they were really annoying insects, and then got into the Batplane without answering either of them.

The duo watched, and after Bruce’s departure, a heavy silence fell upon them.

Selina eventually spoke first with raised eyebrows: “Wait, does this mean he has a tracking device on Superman?”

Dick sneered and drank the rest of his coffee in on breath before he answered: “He has tracking devices on everyone.”

* * *

 

Bruce wouldn’t tell Dick or Selina but he was feeling nervous. Kara had informed him that Lois had said Clark didn’t show up at work today. She had also remembered Clark saying that he had been on his way to Gotham, to make sure Bruce was alright after a pretty nasty fight Batman had gone through with Scarecrow on that day.

The problem was that Clark had never showed up.

Bruce left his Batplane few blocks away from the docks. He knew if Clark wanted, he’d see him right now, but he also knew that Clark got distracted easily and the billionaire was counting on that. The only thing Bruce had to do to sneak up on him was to keep a low profile.

Clark’s position didn’t change and Bruce wondered, whether someone managed to capture the Superman and then got rid of the device in the storehouse. Of course that would be first, very difficult, and second, very bad for the whole Justice League.

Bruce looked at the storehouse in which the other man supposedly was. It wasn’t anything special – old, tall building, looking a bit as if it was going to fall down one of these days.

He decided to enter the building through the roof. He continued to go through the vents as quietly as possible and then hid himself between the shelves and racks which were full of weapons – Bruce made a note to himself to later look whose storehouse this was. The shelves were tall and full and Batman already tried to map his possible exits and escapes. He used his thermal night vision, and soon, he saw the man he was looking for; just in the middle of the storehouse.

He approached him with caution, slowly and without making any noise. Clark didn’t notice him, or so it seemed. He was sitting on a crate, with his back to Bruce. His head was bowed down and his shoulders were drooping. From behind, he looked a bit like a sad child but Bruce realized that his breathing rhythm was relaxed. Bruce found that confusing because the breathing didn’t match his posture.

The billionaire put his hand on his utility belt, on the pouch in which he had kryptonite. He prepared for any possibilities, from Clark trying to kick his head off to Clark trying to hug him (and he honestly had no idea which would be worse) and then made another step closer to the other man, only now realizing he had stopped in his tracks.

Even though the billionaire couldn’t quite put a finger on it, there was something strange in the air; something that made him even warier, something that made his heart beat like crazy, something… unexpected.

When he was just barely out of Clark’s arm-reach (not like it would help him if the alien decided to kill him anyway), Bruce stopped again and stared at his friend’s back for the few following seconds which seemed to him like an eternity. He was almost absolutely sure Clark knew he was there but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Not right away. So he was just standing there, looking at Clark’s nape. After few minutes, he let his body go into flight-or-fight mode and then he whispered into the silence, knowing the other man could hear him: “Superman.”

There was no reaction; Bruce waited for the whole minute but Clark’s posture didn’t change at all; his head was still bowed, his shoulders were still drooping and his breathing was still relaxed.

Bruce waited few more minutes before he slowly moved around Clark, carefully watching what he could of the other man’s face when he stood in front of him. The reporter’s eyes were closed, and there was a slight frown between his eyebrows. He reminded Bruce of the Sleeping Beauty. The billionaire spoke again, now a bit louder: “Clark.” But once again, there was no reaction.

He let his hand slip from the pouch with kryptonite to a switch that would let the other members of Justice League know he needed help and would send them his location. Then, he came closer to Clark and crouched down in front of him. “Clark.” He said once again and reached with his left hand and put it on the reporter’s shoulder.

Bruce didn’t flinch, when Clark moved so quickly he didn’t see it, and grabbed the billionaire’s wrist, jerking his head up. They stared at each other for few too long seconds, and then Clark said in confused voice: “Bruce?”

A deep frown appeared between Bruce’s eyebrows. “Clark, what had happened?”

Clark was staring at him for at least a minute, not saying anything. And then, Bruce saw it. The sparkle in Clark’s eyes and curl of his lips, so slight he had almost missed it. That was all the warning Bruce got; he felt panic hit his heart but before he could really react, he heard a loud crack at the same time he felt a sharp, familiar pain in his wrist.

Bruce didn’t show any of the pain on his face and quickly sent the signal to the Justice League, hoping especially Diana would be there to receive the call but before he could think about it too much, Clark punched him in the stomach and sent him flying across the storehouse. Bruce knew that if Clark wanted to, he’d end up going through the walls and not only few shelves; he could even kill him with a single blow if he chose to. Some crates fell on him but that was the last of his concerns – right now, he had to focus on Clark who was trying to hurt him.

Time to fight for your life, Bruce.

“Clark!” he yelled and rather than trying to get up, Bruce reached with his good hand to the utility belt for kryptonite but before he could touch it, Clark was there kicking his arm away from the belt. Bruce growled and wanted to say something to him but instead he inhaled sharply, when Clark grabbed him by his right wrist and pulled him up into the air as if he was cat. He half-expected Clark to break his other wrist too but that didn’t happen. So he just looked Superman in the eyes.

Bruce had always wondered how he’d die. Would it be some world-threatening crisis?  Would it be some ordinary thug, lucky enough with his bullet? There were only two things he was almost one-hundred percent sure about. First, he wouldn’t die by natural cause. And second, it would always be there, on his mind, if not physically. The evil grin. The cold laughter. The mocking voice saying: ‘ _The jokes’ on you, Bats!_ ’ But even he had to admit he had not expected to see the grin on Clark’s face; to hear the Superman laugh like this.

“Oh, sorry about your wrist, Bruce,” Clark pouted at the other man in a very poor imitation of an apologetic expression. “I really didn’t mean to do that, are you okay?”

Bruce grunted but he didn’t try to fight the hold his friend had on him; he knew it would be pointless right now, so he decided to speak to him at first. “Clark, listen to me! You need to break through this!”

Clark’s lips twisted into an ugly grin and he started to laugh loudly before he said: “Hih, _break through_?”

 “Clark-“ he started but the other man didn’t let him finish and rather slammed his fist into Bruce’s face, efficiently sending him down again, through the crates. The billionaire couldn’t hear anything except for the ringing in his ears in that moment but he saw Clark above him, laughing at him so much he was leaning backwards, with his hands pulling at his own hair so hard Bruce thought he was going to rip some out. Clark was showing all of his teeth in the laughter and they seemed more sharp and hostile than before as if they were able to tear the Batman apart. Clark’s eyes were closed so Bruce took his chances and quickly reached for the kryptonite again.

People usually made presumption about Superman. That he was perfect. That he was naïve. That he didn’t get angry. That he wasn’t smart; which was one of the biggest mistakes anyone could do. Clark Kent maybe wasn’t as intelligent as Batman but he was very smart enough to predict some of his moves nonetheless.

He probably realized Bruce’s plan from the beginning because the moment Bruce moved his hand, Clark was there, not laughing anymore, with hard expression on his face, dumping on the other man’s arm, pinning it to the ground and bruising it but not enough to break it.

And Bruce’s mind ignored the pain and was calculating instead, fast, trying to come up with a way to defeat Clark. His Clark had boundaries; his Clark would never do something this wrong. But this version of Joker venom clearly erased these boundaries. This Clark was capable of anything. Bruce had to play for time right now and focus on not getting killed which was something difficult with someone as unpredictable as Joker.

“Now, this is just plenty rude, don’t you think, Brucie?” Clark said with false hurt in his voice. Then, he kicked the hand away again and crouched down, looking down at Bruce’s utility belt as if he had just caught him cheating in a card game.

“Clark,” Bruce tried again, letting enough desperation color his voice, making it sound like he begged. “Listen to me, this is not you. It’s him, you have to fight it.”

Clark burst out laughing again, then reached for the belt. Bruce immediately tried to stop him and wrapped his fingers around Clark’s wrist, hissing: “Stop it, Clark! Don’t let him win.”

“Hahahah!” Clark giggled, his wrist hot under Bruce’s touch. “Come on, Brucie! Get out of your box, darling! We’re gonna have so much fun together!” He tore the belt off Bruce as easily as if it was a necklace with pearls, the electric shock from the belt doing absolutely nothing to Superman’s powerful body, and then he tossed it away from them, out of Bruce’s reach. That was the moment when Bruce felt really out of control.

“Now, how would you like to spend this lovely evening, Brucie?” Clark asked in seemingly kind tone but his eyes were shinning with insanity as he grabbed Bruce by his chin, bruising the soft human skin easily. “Perhaps a round around the city? Or we could go to local school, you know, enjoy the future generations! Or what about zoo? You like animals, right? I could wrap you in their fur! You’d look beautiful!”

Bruce imagined it and saw burning buildings, children crying and himself wrapped in animal skin while the blood was still dripping from it. He wanted to say something, he wanted to play for time, but before he really had the chance to do so, Clark slapped him across the face, hard. “Brucie, don’t give me the silent treatment! Talk to me!”

The billionaire ignored the taste of blood in his mouth and the ringing in his ears and opened his mouth to say something, anything, and then Clark hit him again, this time knocking out two of Bruce’s molar teeth. Somehow, the slaps were worse than when he had hit him with fists.

The alien giggled like a child before he placed his hands on the sides of Bruce’s face and brushed his sweaty hair, almost gently, aside and Bruce felt sick when he was forced to look Clark in the insane eyes.

“Oh dear god! I’m so sorry, Brucie!” Clark grinned again. “I didn’t mean to do that but you know men! We get a bit crazy around those we like!”

“Clark,” Bruce tried again, putting his hand on the other man’s chest, trying to ignore the dizziness he was feeling in the moment. “You must fight him. This is not you.”

“Hihih! _This is not you_!” Clark repeated derisively, and then hit Bruce in the stomach. There was a loud crack as the Superman cracked something in Bruce’s Batsuit, then there was sharp pain but it didn’t feel like a broken bone. Bruce didn’t have time to think about it very much because in the next second, Clark wrapped his fingers around Bruce’s neck and threw him across the room again.

Bruce made few spins in the air, went through few more shelves and racks, he impacted on the ground few times, and then mercifully hit a wall. He grunted in pain, everything in his body hurting and got on his feet as quickly as possible, his eyes already searching for his utility belt instinctively.

And there was the laughter again, warning him before Clark appeared right in front of him, pushing him against the wall. This time Bruce didn’t fight him but instead looked him right in the eye, frowning, angry at himself, angry at Clark for getting into this mess and angry at Joker for doing this to his friend.

“Stop it, Clark!” he insisted and grabbed the other man’s wrist again, trying to pull it away with force knowing too well it would do nothing.

Clark laughed, his teeth showing again and sending chills through Bruce’s spine. Then, he abruptly stopped and looked Bruce in the eye. He looked almost as his normal self and a very small part of Bruce was thinking, _hoping_ , it was all over.

“You’ve been very, very bad, Batsy,” Clark informed him and, not being able to stop himself, started to giggle again. “And what do we do to bad boys, Brucie?” Bruce refused to answer even when Clark lifted him up by the neck and squeezed harder, cutting the Batman off air. He continued to examine him for few seconds, then his grin widened; and he leaned closer, whispering into the other man’s ear: “They get punished.”

Bruce felt his heart missing one beat, and he frowned at Clark, not exactly sure what the other man was planning to do. He was scared.

Clark threw him on the ground and silently watched him, the smile never leaving his face. Under any other circumstances, he’d almost look kindly. Almost. Bruce pushed the instinct to crawl away from Clark and curl into a ball into the back of his mind and instead growled at the man above him: “Clark, this is not you! You need to fight this, you don’t want to do this!” his heart hammered in his rib cage so loudly, he could hear it, and Clark laughed again and crouched down, invading Bruce’s personal space, making him feel even more uncomfortable. It brought back Bruce’s instinct to get as far away from him as possible but he still didn’t move. Before he could really decide what to do, Clark took him by chin and kissed him.

Bruce immediately tried to pull away on instinct, raising both of his hands and pushing against Clark’s chest as hard as he could, ignoring the pain in his wrist, but there was no way he could escape the other man’s grip. He could smell Clark’s typical scent – freshly cut grass and coffee and yet the familiar, and at many times comforting smell, made Bruce’s stomach twist with the urge to throw up in that moment because this wasn’t Clark; the smell was lying to him.

Clark bit Bruce into his lower lip, hard, drawing blood and then entered Bruce’s mouth with his tongue, ignoring the other man’s fighting and resisting. Then he put all of his weight on Bruce and pinned him down against the hard, cold floor of the storehouse. It felt more like an attack than anything Clark had done so far, it felt worse than the slaps and hits from before.

Bruce felt panic raising in his chest, felt the need to do anything to push Clark away from him but the logical part of his brain which was still surprisingly working reminded him that even if he did hit Clark, he’d probably only break his other hand.

He didn’t stop pushing though. Clark’s hand left his chin and wrapped around Bruce’s waist, pulling him closer to the too hot body despite Bruce’s struggling. The man underneath him felt panic piercing his heart more and more, and he tried to squirm out of Clark’s arms harder and harder as the man on him was devouring his mouth, devouring _him,_ more and more and his tongue didn’t let him breath.

Just when he thought he was going to pass out, Clark pulled away and grinned: „What’s the matter, Brucie? Playing hard to get?”

“Fuck you!” Bruce spitted only to hear that cold empty laughter again before he was slapped across the face like a misbehaved child.

“Come on, Bats! We both know you’ve spread your legs for much worse men than me!” Clark laughed, enjoying the disoriented look on Bruce’s face he caused him by the slap. Then, he sank his teeth into the billionaire’s neck, marking him, _branding_ him like as if he was nothing more than cattle. “You are a slut, Bruce, so why don’t ya do a favor to your friend? We’re besties, remember?”

Bruce felt like suffocating again. The powerlessness was overwhelming; he was desperately trying to get away from the monster. A fuzzy memory invaded his mind; Talia sitting on him and playing with his hair while she fucked herself on him as he was weakly and pathetically trying to get from underneath her. The memory, even as blurry as it was, only made everything feel more intense and worse. When Clark tore the upper part of his suit violently and ran his hand under it across the billionaire’s bare, vulnerable stomach and Bruce felt like a piece of meat, like he was a breeding animal being examined if it was worth the money.

“You’re so cute, Brucie!” Clark laughed, now sucking on his skin tenderly. “But you can drop the act, I won’t tell anyone how much of a slut you really are. Besides, I’m pretty sure most of people already know.”

Bruce felt Clark everywhere. He could still taste him on tongue, his nose was full of his scent and his hands were touching him all over, stroking his skin lovingly and gently scratching. The worst part was that his touches were soft and tender; and he realized he’d much preferred if Clark would be more forceful.

The true, real and raw panic didn’t come to him, though, not until the alien pushed his hand inside the billionaire’s pants. Bruce immediately felt sweat running down his forehead and he whined in pain when Clark harshly grasped his penis. He felt sick and it got even worse when Clark laughed at him loudly.

“Clark!” Bruce wasn’t sure if he intended to sound so desperately to make the real Clark hear him or if he really was that desperate as his voice sounded. “Stop it! You don’t want to do this! I know you’re there! Don’t let him win!”

The reporter sneered and opened his mouth to say something when all of sudden a golden rope tightened around his neck. He frowned before looking over shoulder and then shouted enthusiastically: “Oh, hi, Diana! Wanna join us? I was just about to get to the good part!”

It took Bruce an unusually long moment to realized what was happening, and before it did, Diana had already snarled as she always did in battles, and pulled at the rope, dragging Clark’s heavy body from the billionaire. There was a loud banging sound as she threw the Superman against the shelves.

Bruce had never felt so happy to see her even though she was deeply frowning and he had never seen such furious expression on her face. The happiness mixed with bitterness and shame, though.

“What happened?!” she asked angrily and purposefully stood between the two men facing Clark and shielding Bruce with her body.

“Nothing, Diana!” Clark stood up, still widely grinning at her but not coming closer to them. “I and Bruce were just sharing a pretty, romantic moment!”

Bruce got up as quickly as his wounds allowed him while saying: “I think he was infected by some kind of advanced Joker venom. We need to immobilize him and then get a cure.”

Just before Bruce finished the sentence, Clark used his heat vision. Both, Diana and Bruce, had expected he would try to attack them when they were distracted and so Bruce had enough time to jump aside and Diana raised her arms and blocked the attack with her bracelets. And that was exactly what Superman wanted her to do; he flew to the warrior and punched her in the face.

Diana growled as her body made a small crater in the ground where she impacted and the whole building shook with the force the Superman had used. But Bruce hadn’t been waiting to see which one of them would win a fist fight; instead, he ran towards his utility belt.

Just when he was reaching for it, he heard Clark giggle: “Where are you going, Brucie?” it sent chills to his spine and he felt cold sweat on his forehead but the blow which he expected from Clark, never came. Instead, he heard the man behind him let out an bestial growl. Bruce glanced over his shoulder and saw Clark right behind him with Diana’s lace around his chest and arms. She was standing tall and strong behind him, her hair ruffled and out of place but without any wounds. And it looked like she clearly couldn’t care less about her wild looks. The warrior pulled Clark back and returned the punch he had given her moments ago.

Bruce used the distraction and got to his utility belt. He felt tremor in his hand, his body still recovering from the assault. He quickly found the right pouch, pulled out the lead box, opened it, ignoring the sharp pain in his broken wrist, and then took out the kryptonite.

He heard Clark cry in pain and when he turned around. Clark’s eyes were on him, finally with the true, raw intention of killing him in them. He looked like a wild beast and if Diana wasn’t there, holding him against the ground with her lace still around his chest and arms, Bruce was sure he’d be dead on the spot.

Then Clark’s eyes went red. Bruce inhaled sharply and evaded the heat vision just in time. Diana growled and, despite the difficulties she had with the man, she took his head and directed it away from Bruce. Clark growled again but his lips widened in a mocking smirk again.

And so Bruce just continued to hold the kryptonite in his hand and let himself lean against one of the still standing shelves. He distantly realized how violently his body was shaking with adrenaline and fear but he couldn’t tear his eyes off Clark when the other man started to laugh mockingly. The laughter only got more intense when Clark seemed to realize how much it was frightening Bruce and he was laughing and laughing and laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is not exactly mind control but it was the closest tag for it that I could find. This whole idea about Clark being poisoned by Joker venom came from the comics, namely from [Batman: Endgame](http://www.hellocomic.com/batman/c36/p1) Batman: Endgame and there's great possibility I'll get inspired again as I continue with the story. Also, you can find me any time at my [tumblr](http://brooose-wayne.tumblr.com) and ask me questions about the story!


	2. Chapter 2

“How long will it take for him to get out of it?” Diana asked with dark expression on her face and her arms crossed over her chest.

They both were standing in the Batcave. Diana had helped Bruce to move Clark there and restrain him to the bed. He had been unconscious and Bruce hoped it would stay that way until he was sure that Clark was no longer under the effects of the venom.

Unfortunately, Bruce hadn't had the chance to test the general anesthetic he had prepared for a situation like this. There was a small amount of kryptonite in the liquid and if it was enough to keep Superman sleeping was yet to be seen. Diana had agreed to stay in Batcave and Wayne manor until they'd be sure the venom was out of Clark's system.

Once they were finished with securing Clark, a heavy silence fell upon them and Bruce could feel the worrying look Diana was giving him in the back of his neck when he turned away from her, pretending to be busy with his gadgets. He kept the arm with broken wrist closer to his body, carefully moving with it when needed.

“Bruce,” Diana finally spoke sounding so sympathetic and kind it made the man want to vomit – he didn't want her pity. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” Bruce grumbled, thinking whether he should call Alfred or not. Perhaps in front of the butler, she wouldn’t be displaying this worry for his being so much.

“Bruce!” Diana repeated now more emphatically even though the worry was still clear in her voice.

The said man forced himself to look her in the eye. “I'm alright, Diana.” he told her, trying to at least sound reassuring. It didn't work out since the frown between her eyebrows deepened and she opened her mouth to say something. Fortunately, Bruce was saved form the conversation because the door into the Batcave opened and Alfred entered.

The old man looked at Bruce first, taking in his condition, then he looked at disapprovingly looking Diana and finally at the medical bed in which Clark was lying, pale, the evil grin still on his face, and receiving the transparent liquid into his veins from IV bags on the pole next to the bed.

“A busy night, sir?” Alfred asked with raised eyebrow.

Bruce only growled something incomprehensible and turned around so he didn't have to face either of them.

He would never admit it but he felt how his body was still shaking from the fight… which was weird. He had gone through much worse and more dangerous situations, and yet, at those times he hadn't had any troubles with calming down.

“Could you hand me the medical kit?” the billionaire asked just to keep himself busy. He felt an enormous urge to take a shower and get all the blood, sweat and Clark's smell off him but he knew he couldn't do that right now. He had already made an x-ray image to make sure the bones didn’t need to be set in place, now he just needed to stop his wrist from swelling so much and he needed to put a cast on it.

Alfred immediately put down the tray with tea and cookies he had brought down and walked to Bruce, grabbing ice pack from the freezer on his way to him but at least he didn’t go into his full mother-hen mode. Diana didn't comment for which Bruce was grateful. Alfred's calculating look as he was examining Bruce's injuries was more than enough to make him feel restless. The older man first glanced at his lower lip, where Clark had bitten him, then he looked at the teeth mark and hickey on his neck and finally at his torn suit. Bruce hoped Alfred was going to think it was nothing more than another injury but he knew he should not underestimate his butler's observational abilities.

Bruce knew the effects and aftermaths of sexual assault. He also knew he should consider himself lucky because Diana had gotten there in time. Yet, he still felt dirty, he still felt guilty for not putting up more of a fight, and he felt anger at himself that someone else had to save him. He felt ashamed.

“Where are they?” Bruce asked, trying to get as away from the heavy subject in his mind as possible.

“Masters Damian and Tim have returned from their patrols along with Miss Cassandra,” Alfred told him, knowing who Bruce was referring to and putting the ice pack on Bruce’s wrist without asking for permission first; Bruce didn’t flinch. “Master Dick is trying to convince them to go the bed as we speak.”

Bruce nodded, took the antiseptic swabs and started to clean the wounds.

“May I ask what has happened to Master Clark?” Alfred didn’t raise his eyes from Bruce’s wounds. It made the billionaire feel as if he was under inspection.

“Joker got to him,” Bruce said. “He infected him with advanced Joker venom. We still don’t know how or when exactly. We’ll ask him after the antidote gets of the venom.”

“I see,” Alfred frowned but he didn’t make another comment about Bruce or Clark; instead he turned to Diana and asked: “Would you like tea, Miss Prince?”

Diana smiled but it looked too tense to be genuine. “Yes, thank you.”

Bruce finally let himself sit down and relaxed a bit, hoping that it would help to remove the tremor in his limbs. Alfred poured tea into one of the teacups and handed it to Diana who thanked for it. The moment the butler was sure Diana wouldn’t need him, he was all over Bruce, trying to clean the bruises with the medical kit and antiseptic swabs which Bruce had put on the table. The billionaire grumbled but didn’t stop him. Instead, his head jerked up when he heard the door opening again, and Dick walked into the cave with a wide smile on his lips.

“So, where is Sup-holy shit, what happened to your face?!” Dick's tone quickly changed from charming to worried and shocked.

Bruce gave him an irritated look and decided to ignore him for as long as possible.

When Dick realized his father wouldn't give him an answer, he asked again, this time directing the question to no one in particular: “Would someone please tell me, what the hell happened?”

Diana was looking torn between telling him and letting Bruce do it and Alfred pretended to be too busy with Bruce's bruises. When it became clear the billionaire wasn't going to tell Dick anything, Diana rolled her eyes and gave Bruce one of her scolding looks. The Batman looked up but didn't back down and frowned as well.

It was one of the moments when two friends had a complete inner conversation without speaking any words out loud and Diana was frowning more and more, letting him know she strongly disagreed with the way Bruce was handling (or rather _not_ handling) the situation. Finally, Bruce was the one who rolled his eyes and gave up the argument.

“Clark got poisoned by Joker venom,” he said, making sure he kept his voice sounding neutral. “He attacked me but, fortunately, Wonder Woman got there in time and helped me to pacify him.”

Dick stood there, still in the door with his eyes suspiciously narrowed at Bruce. Then he finally moved closer and examined his father from head to toe. Then he informed him in unusually serious voice: “That doesn’t explain the hickey on your neck, Bruce?”

Bruce managed to keep his poker face, and even his voice revealed nothing as he spoke: “First of all, it’s just a bruise. Second of all, we are not having this conversation, Dick. Go back to Blüdhaven.”

Dick let out a disagreeing snort: “Like hell I’m going back! What the fuck happened in the storehouse?!”

“Master Dick!” Alfred looked at the younger man disapprovingly. “Language!”

“To the hell with it! What happened there?” This time, he looked at Diana, demanding answers.

The warrior didn’t say anything; didn’t betray Bruce’s trust, but when she looked at the billionaire again it was clear she still didn’t like Bruce’s approach to things.

“Go home, Dick,” Bruce growled, this time he even shook Alfred off, making the other man frown, but Bruce ignored that and stood stubbornly up. He walked to the freezer, took another two ice packs and informed the others: “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Oh, Bruce, come on! We’re your family and friends, you can talk to us,” Dick said, the anger gone from his voice and all that was left was sadness that Bruce didn’t trust him; he sounded like a kicked puppy.

Bruce ignored him; he knew this was for the best. He kicked the door behind himself shut and locked it, separating himself from the others. This room wasn’t as much bathroom as it was a locker room with few lockers with different set of clothes for different occasions, depending on what Bruce would need to do after changing into civilian. There was also toilet, shower corner and sink with a mirror.

The billionaire heard Dick swearing and then Alfred scolding him for it again and he couldn’t help but smile fondly – Alfred would always try to make the children behave, no matter how old they were. The smile was, however, short-lived as the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror.

He was looking pathetic. There was dry blood on his left temple, the left cheek was already red and Bruce had no doubt that the red would turn blue by tomorrow, his lower lip where Clark had bit him was bruised too but the worst thing to look at was probably the hickey on Bruce’s neck.

He really needed to take the shower. He felt weak, dirty and pathetic. He wanted to curl up in the corner of his shower and let the water wash him for hours, until he would feel clean and calm again. Logically, he knew these were the effects of the attempted rape, that there was no reason to feel dirty but the experience was still fresh in his mind and he could still feel the cold fingers under his shirt.

Bruce growled angrily – not even sure whom he was angry at – and threw the ice packs he had on the ground. He ignored the pain caused the movement of his left wrist. He lowered his eyes, refusing to look at himself anymore and started to undress, putting the Batsuit away.

He knew it was a stupid idea to shower because of his fractured wrist but he just needed to get the dirt and blood off. To feel at least a bit better about showering while injured, he made sure the shower was cold and not hot, even though he was sure a hot shower would make him feel much better psychologically.

He let out a short hiss when the cold water hit his body, but closed his eyes, letting the water wash over him, taking away the scent Clark had left on him. He stood there for few minutes, trying to relax but soon he found out that he couldn't close his eyes for more than five seconds; every time he did that, memories of big cold hands on his hips and stomach and lips twisted into a smile on his neck invaded through his mind, trying to make him panic, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

It felt like he was there for hours and it was still not enough. He could still feel Clark's touch and he could smell his scent in his mind even though he washed his body three times with shampoo and shower gel. But Bruce knew he had to finish the shower before the people on the other side of the door started to get worried... well, more worried than they already were.

He turned off the water and stepped out of the corner. In the lockers, he chose casual clothes, dressed up and left the room with ice packs back on his wrist, though he’d probably need new since these were half melted. The swelling was much smaller than before, thankfully.

Dick, Alfred and Diana stood close to one of the command consoles but they weren't talking; not anymore at least, and Bruce didn't say anything either. He just walked to the console and sat down.

They didn't speak to him.

Dick eventually left while muttering something about stubborn, old man but with a promise of returning tomorrow because of two reasons: One, Batman couldn't run around with his arm in a cast, much to Bruce's distaste, and so it was up to Dick to replace him as the Dark Knight; and two, to have a very serious conversation with his father.

The same couldn't be said about Diana. She stayed in the Batcave along with Bruce; both of them agreed it would be for the best if they didn't leave Clark alone there for the time of being. She insisted that Bruce would take the bed she had brought down here from the manor but Bruce informed her that he was not going to lie around and wasting his time while waiting for Clark to wake up. He sat up to the computer and continued to do research on crimes which still needed to be solved and which could be without actually going to the crime scenes.

Alfred brought them another trail of biscuits and tea before he left to get his well-deserved rest. Once Bruce and Diana were alone in the Batcave, the billionaire started to feel nervous. He didn't want Diana to ask and he was sure Diana knew it. Whether she would decide to respect his wishes was completely other matter.

“Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?” Diana asked, her voice heavy with worry and sympathy.

“Yes,” was Bruce's immediate answer.

Diana didn't say anything else, only sighed tiredly and then started to read the book Alfred had brought her.

The silence in Batcave which was only interrupted by the sound of Bruce's occasional typing was tense but neither of them spoke to break it.

Bruce realized after few hours that the tremor in his hands and his body had stopped at some point but the uneasiness was replaced by something far worse – by tiredness. He didn't want to sleep. He knew he would have nightmares, not to mention he could still see and feel Clark when he closed his eyes for too long.

“Bruce, you do realize that I am your friend, don't you?” Diana spoke, interrupting the man's train of thoughts.

“I am aware,” Bruce just informed her and she sighed.

“You don't have to be alone on everything, you know? I am your friend; Dick and Alfred your family. Let us help.”

She didn’t receive any answer to that, and truth to be told, she didn’t expect any. She just wanted Bruce to know that if he needed, they were there for him.

* * *

Bruce didn’t know when but he eventually dozed off. He woke up in the matter of minutes, his body jerking abruptly and his heart beat fast with panic in his chest. Thankfully, he didn’t yell or scream in his sleep so Diana continued to be oblivious to his terrified condition.

After this experience, Bruce avoided sleep. He drank a lot of coffee and forced himself to focus on work. It helped even though from time to time the memories from last night crawled upon him and then sent chills to his spine when he wasn’t paying attention to what was going on in his head.

When his other boys and Cass found out about him, they were even worse than Dick. Damian gave an especially hateful look to Clark’s unconscious body and then turned to his father with question: “Why do you still tolerate that alien when he’s such a threat?”  to which Bruce assured him that he was well aware of the danger in the form of Superman but as long as he was on their side, he was not going to take him down.

Tim on the other hand seemed like he didn’t want Bruce to be with Clark in the same room until they were sure all the venom was gone. Bruce tried to explain to him that he didn’t need to worry since Diana was pretty much present all the time and if there was a situation like that, the two of them could take him down.

And Cassandra was just watching Bruce with a frown between her eyebrows, telling absolutely nothing, but Bruce had the feeling that she already knew much more than Tim and Damian. He deeply admired her skills of reading other people based on their body language but now he wished she wouldn’t have had them.

Bruce made sure he had used color correcting concealer to cover the hickey in front of them; the other injures didn’t need to cover.

Clark’s cousin, Kara, had showed up. She made sure that both of them, Clark and Bruce, were alright but it was clear that her first and foremost concern was Clark and whether he would be alright. Bruce assured her that he would. Connor dropped by as well, even though it looked like he used it as an excuse to meet with Tim.

Bruce as Batman called Lois Lane to cover Clark at Daily Planet, telling her information that were mostly true.

Dick was still trying to make Bruce talk when he had the opportunity to speak with his father but he didn’t have many because of his daily job and the Batman duties.

In the following days, Bruce made sure to stay away from mirrors. They brought back bad memories, just like every other thing it seemed. When someone touched him and he wasn’t expecting it, he felt the cold hands again. When he tried to sleep, he woke up every while with nightmare. Thank god, he at least wasn’t screaming in his sleep. After the first day, Bruce had given up on sleep and completely focused on the work instead.

The third day after the incident, the Joker venom was out of Clark’s system and Bruce took out the IV with anesthetic. Bruce and Diana were just waiting for him to wake up when Diana got a message from the Paradise Island. Her mother made a request for her to return home; she was needed there for some diplomatic incident with Washington. The warrior left Bruce alone with Clark in the Batcave. Before she left, she gave Bruce a very sorry look.

Alfred was preparing dinner at that time, Tim was somewhere with Connor and Damian was out with Cassandra and Titus. And Bruce was alone in the Batcave.

He was kind of surprised that he wasn’t feeling scared to be alone with Clark in the cave; at least not more scared than usual. He continued doing his work, research, gathering information and helping Dick when his son called, requiring assistance.

Then, the billionaire heard a rustle behind him. And instead of turning away, he felt his body go stiff. He wanted to turn around, to look at the source of the noise but he couldn’t. He knew it was Clark, finally waking up; he had expected it. What he hadn’t expected though was to feel so scared and to freeze like a deer in the headlights.

There was some more of the rustling sound and then a loud groan. That was the moment Bruce finally managed to move his body; he reached for a lead box he’d been keeping within his arm reach all the time since the night in the storehouse.

“Bruce?” came Clark’s confused voice.

“Yeah?” Bruce forced himself to turn around and look his friend in the eye. _Easy, Bruce_ , he thought to himself, trying to calm down, but it still felt as if his body was betraying him; he was trembling and once Clark would focus on hearing, he would be able to hear Bruce’s rapid heartbeat.

Bruce had never been one to believe in miracles but at that moment he hoped more than anything that Clark wouldn’t remember what he had done, and had tried to do, to him. Despite their differences, he cared for Clark, and he knew that the other man was much better person that the Dark Knight himself. He didn’t deserve any of this.

Clark rubbed the back of his head, confused, and looked around himself, taking in the Batcave. “What happened?” he asked when his look fell on the medical bed and then on Bruce.

A strange combination of relief and fear mixed in Bruce’s body. He was so glad that Clark didn’t remember but his paranoid mind was still telling him to run away from Clark, from the danger… from the man who had tried to rape him. But there was no insane spark in his eyes, or twisted corners of his lips. He was his typical Superman self. And yet, Bruce heard the cold laughter in his mind again.

“I was hoping you would tell me,” Bruce finally spoke in calm voice. “I found you in a storehouse three days ago with Joker venom in your veins.”

Clark’s eyes widened and he looked at Bruce for the first time properly. The blood vanished out of his face. “I remember going here to make sure you were okay and then– Oh, dear God, did I gave you these bruises?”

“Clark…”

“I’m so sorry, Bruce!” Clark told him and got out of bed. The kryptonite from the anesthetic still having effects on him so he walked to the other man on feet rather than flying to him.

“Clark,” Bruce repeated, digging his nails into the armrest when he felt the urge to get as far away from the other man as possible. _He’s not a threat_ , he repeated in his head, _he wouldn’t harm me_. But that stupid, irrational part of his brain refused to acknowledge that. That part just wanted to get far, far away from Clark. He focused on his breathing, trying to make the pain in his chest go away, trying to fight the dizziness he felt.

After few minutes, when he felt in control again, he realized that Clark stopped in his tracks few meters away from him and now was worriedly eyeing him. It was clear Clark was still expecting an answer from him so he forced himself to say calmly: “It’s okay. I realize you weren’t thinking clearly. It wasn’t you. Let it go.”

“But-“

“Let’s do some check-ups and then you can go home,” Bruce offered him, ignoring all the sweat on his forehead. “If we are lucky, you can leave in few minutes. You can even make it to work tomorrow. So, let’s start… Are you feeling homicidal? Do you feel the need to take over the world?”

Clark frowned, not amused. “Not more than usually.”

Bruce nodded and stood up from his chair. “Let’s make just one more blood test.”

The other man didn’t seem to be listening to him, though, he looked at Bruce’s wrist instead. He probably didn’t notice the cast on his arm until now because Bruce was wearing a loose hoodie. “Did I do that?” he asked; his eyes were widened, his shoulders stooped. He looked like a sad puppy.

“It wasn’t you, Clark, it was the Joker,” Bruce growled, annoyed at the self-blame Clark was displaying.

“I should’ve been strong,” Clark growled, now sounding angry at himself. He clenched his fists and teeth and he looked at the ground, his shoulders straightened and a deep frown formed on his forehead.

And Bruce started to shake like a leaf in the wind. He put everything in him to sound as calm as possible, when he ordered Clark: “Sit down. And if I have to repeat one last time that it was not your fault, you’ll regret it.”

Clark was looking at him confusedly but then he smiled warmly and did what Bruce told him. He looked so much different than he had that night in storehouse; his smile wasn’t a cold, empty smirk, it was warm and kind and every time Clark smiled like this, Bruce felt like the world was a bit better place. It calmed the billionaire a bit, both the smile and that Clark obeyed his wish.

“If I could help you with something, please, let me know,” Clark said kindly and tried to put his hand on the billionaire’s shoulder. The other man jerked away instinctively, and Clark frowned again but drew his arm back. “Are you sure you are alright?”

Bruce took a deep breath and then looked the reporter in the eye. “I’ve suffered worse beating, Clark.”

He didn’t wait for Clark to answer, instead he used the opportunity to inject the needle with kryptonite tip and took some of the blood. The reporter hissed at the pain which made Bruce smile a bit; Superman could move buses, save cities and stop world-threatening crisis, and yet, he still feared needles. Another thing that manage to calm him a little.

“Did you use kryptonite on me?” Clark asked after Bruce withdraw the needle and put the sample into analyzer at the side of medical bed.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded.

Clark soon realized that Bruce wouldn’t talk much that evening. He was looking at him worriedly, as if he wanted to ask once again what he could do to make things right. The problem was that Clark did nothing wrong. Bruce wanted to look at him and see his old friend and not the monster with devilish grin on its face that wanted to rape him. Bruce knew he needed time. For the time of being, it would be the best to push Clark away. For the sake of both of them, for the sake of their friendship.

The Superman tried to talk to him several more times but Bruce wouldn’t give him answers other than a yes, a no and looks that made him stop talking.

When they were done, Clark could fly again and Bruce literally kicked him out. And he felt like a monster for it. Clark looked the whole time like he didn’t understand, like he wanted to do everything to redeem himself but Bruce knew there was nothing to redeem. He wanted to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and assure him that it would be alright. He wanted to tell him the truth so the weight would leave Bruce’s shoulders and Clark would understand. But he couldn’t do that to him. Clark had already gone through a lot; he didn’t deserve any of this.

When Clark left, Bruce let his body to fell into the chair and he stayed there for an hour, doing absolutely nothing than staring at the screens and trying to convince himself that the things were going to be alright again. Clark didn’t remember anything which was a good thing. It complicated things though. It meant Bruce had to find Joker and ask him how he managed to poison Clark with the venom.

So far Bruce had a theory that Joker somehow got his hands on kryptonite which was atrocious thing.

Finally, Alfred came for him and he felt like a child again, being dragged to the bed. This time Bruce didn’t even fight the older man and followed the butler outside the Batcave, into manor. He wished him good night and then disappeared behind the door to his bedroom.

When he was alone there, he couldn’t bring himself to go to bed yet. He didn’t want to sleep; sleep would only give him nightmares. He tried to read for a while but it only made him sleepier. Finally, he decided to take a hot shower.

In the last few days, showers became the only thing that could ground him, that could take him away from the memories. During showers, he felt clean again; he felt warm and safe and the laughter sounded at least a bit distant in his head.

This shower took Bruce an hour and half which was, considering the last few days, pretty short one. The billionaire was just so tired even he had to admit he needed to sleep at least for few hours. Two hours of sleep during three days was not much even for his standards.

Finally, he wrapped his body in a dark blue bathrobe, brushed his teeth and shaved before he walked out of the room. He opened the door leading from his bathroom to the bedroom and froze in his steps, his eyes wide with shock.

Clark was standing there, in the middle of his bedroom. The lights were on and the door to his balcony open. He was wet all over, which wasn’t strange considering the heavy rain outside. He had a dark expression on his face, deep frown on his forehead, and when their eyes met, he asked in deadly serious, almost cold voice: “I was on my way to Metropolis when I… when I… I… Why didn’t you tell me I tried to rape you?”

Bruce gulped. His heart was beating like crazy and he felt sweat running down his back. The expression on his friend’s face made him fear that, any second, Clark would start to laugh the same way he had in the storehouse. The room suddenly felt too small, there were cold hands on his stomach, lips on his neck, and he felt a fingers wrapped around his throat, cutting the air away. He couldn’t breathe, Clark was too close. Everything was too blurry; everything except for Clark. He needed to get away from the other man. He needed to get away...

“Bruce?” Clark asked, now worriedly, and stepped closer. Bruce distantly realized he stepped back, terrified at how close Clark suddenly seemed to be. He wanted to say something, to make a sound but no word came out of his throat. He wanted to take control again and try one of his breathing exercises but he couldn’t remember how. Then Clark made another step and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! Yay! Anyway guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter at least as much as you did the first one! Please let me know in comments, or you can contact me on [tumblr](http://brooose-wayne.tumblr.com)! Also, as usually, all mistakes are mine! I should also probably say that I personally never had a panic attack myself and thus all of my knowledge is either from research or from one of my friends who used to have them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! As I promised, there is the new chapter... I wanted to update it earlier today but I was so busy with classes I didn't have any time, plus my degree exams are coming and I'm very tired these days.. Anyway, as always, the mistakes are mine and I hope you enjoy!

Dick titled his head back, exposing his neck in rather obscene way when he felt the nipping against the soft skin of his neck.

He was standing, or rather leaning against the wall, in an abandoned building where he had just stopped a drug deal. The place was dirty, stank disgustingly, and he knew he would need a shower after he got home. So, technically, it was his and Jason's typical place for a date.

The other man who had so helpfully assisted him with taking out those thugs was now pushing his body further against the wall while sucking on his exposed neck.

If Bruce caught them like this, Dick would be in serious trouble. He was supposed to be outside, paroling and catching other criminals and not to have teamed up with Red Hood, then making fun of Jason for lame fight, and not at all get into a real fight with him that ended (as usually) with angry kissing.

But, gosh, Dick loved every minute of it.

“Glad at least something shut you up,” Jason growled, sounding half angry half eagerly.

Dick opened his mouth to say something very smart but all that came out was loud moan as Jason bit harder into his neck and sucked. The older decided he would kick his ass later for leaving marks on him and that for now, he’d just wrap his arms around Jason's shoulders and pulled him closer.

Jason growled again, this time in approval, and pulled away from Dick's neck only to kiss him hungrily. Dick practically melted into his mouth, into his touch, and let Jason’s tongue inside to avidly explore as if this was the first time they were together.

Dick was starting to get hard when he heard his communicator beep. He groaned, frustrated at the sudden interruption, and pushed Jason away. The other man made few desperate tries to convince Dick to continue in their little play, but the older man was shoving him away until Jason got the message and pulled away with a groan that was not unlike Dick's.

“What’s up, Alfred,” Dick said, enabling the communicator in his ear. He was very relieved that he didn't sound breathless… or horny for that matter.

“I'm afraid you are needed back here, Master Dick,” came Alfred's usual, calm voice but there were other sounds in the background that made Dick worried.

He frowned when he recognized Damian’s voice. And that he sounded angry as hell.

“What’s going on there?” Dick asked, worry coloring his tone.

“Master Bruce had lost consciousness,” Alfred told him and there was another voice that sounded hopeless and panicked but Dick couldn’t quite make out the words. Then, he could hear Tim yelling something and he thought he even heard Cass but he didn’t know for sure. “Now Master Damian and Master Drake are trying to make Master Clark leave but he’s rather… persistent on making sure Master Bruce is alright.”

Dick felt how his heart skipped a beat. He forced himself to calm down but still couldn’t keep all the worry out of his voice as he said: “Shit, I’ll be right back!”

“Thank you, Master Dick and also…” Alfred made a pause during which there was a sun of shattering glass. “Language.”

Before Dick could reply anything, not that he would have anyway, Alfred hang up.

“What’s this?” Jason sneered, a devilish grin playing on his lips. “Little family crisis?”

“I gotta go!” Dick snapped and quickly pulled the cowl back on. “See you later.”

He quickly ran towards the exit, out of the room that was one of the few in the whole building which still had all four walls. Unfortunately, the moment he headed outside, Jason was at his heels. “Hey, Wonder Boy! What the fuck is going on? Surely you can stay for a few more min-“

“Sorry, Jay,” Dick interrupted him, impatience clear in his voice. “I really need to go. Bruce’s in trouble.”

He didn’t mean to say the last part. He knew that it wasn’t very smart to talk about Bruce with Jason. The younger man could still love Bruce, no matter what he said, but their relationship was still… strained. And if someone mention Jason’s former mentor, it could cause the Red Hood to do anything from furious outburst to him completely closing off and running away.

This time, though, Jason just frowned: “Like that wasn’t clear from you dressing up as a Batfreak. Now tell me, what the fuck is going on?”

They both walked outside the building. There was the Batmobile in front of it and the street was completely empty, except for a group of unconscious thugs who were still tied up and not picked up by the police. Jason was wearing his red hood again.

Dick wanted to tell Jason. He really did. But he knew it would feel like betraying Bruce’s trust. True, Jason was still a part of the family, but Dick didn’t feel like it was his place. Plus, he wasn’t sure what exactly had happened to Bruce on that night in storehouse… or maybe he did know, but he didn’t want to say it out loud.

“Just go home, Red Hood,” Dick said, using the tone that usually didn’t leave any room for further conversation. Usually.

“Fuck off, I’m coming with you, Wonder Boy!” Jason growled and got into the Batmobile behind Dick. The older man rolled his eyes but didn’t kick Jason out. He knew that at this point, it would be safer just to get to Bruce as soon as possible before someone committed a murder inside the manor. Though, he wasn’t sure who would end up dead, he was as hell sure he would have to be the one to explain such thing to Bruce. 

* * *

 

Bruce felt like floating in darkness, as if he was under water and someone above it was talking. He couldn't make out the words but he did recognize angry voices and shouting. He opened eyes. He was looking at the ceiling of his bedroom, he immediately knew that. What he didn't know or at least couldn't remember was how the hell was possible that he was lying on the floor.

“Bruce?” he heard someone's voice. It sounded familiar but it wasn't clicking in the right place in his brain.

He was too confused, and was still feeling a bit dizzy, even though he was lying on the floor, and he felt so tired he could go back to the sleep right there. But a small voice in the back of his mind told him that now was not time for that.

And then he heard Damian's voice: “Father!”

He forced himself to open his eyes again, not even realizing when he had closed them, and saw his youngest son's face with strange mixture of worry and anger on it. In the next moment, Tim and Cassandra were at his sides as well, surrounding him and looking at him worriedly. Damian was gripping Bruce's arm to get his attention and he did get it. Bruce looked at him and familiar yet groundless fear fogged his mind and everything went black again but this time, he knew he didn't faint completely. He heard everything, saw everything but at the same time, he was surrounded by cold darkness. He felt as if he was sinking down, on the bottom of the ocean.

 _It's not real, no one wants to hurt you_ , he thought to himself but that didn't stop it no matter how many times he repeated it to himself.

“Please give your father a bit of space,” came Alfred's calm voice, dragging him out on the surface.

He distantly realized that the kids moved away.

“Would like something to drink, Master Bruce?” the butler asked.

It took the billionaire another few minutes to get his thinking straight but Alfred and the kids patiently waited for him to answer. Finally, Bruce thought he would be able to speak without sounding as shaky as he felt: “Yes.”

Alfred moved more slowly than usual as he was handing Bruce the glass with water. Only then Bruce realized how much thirsty he actually was. He took the glass into his hand carefully, refusing to show the eagerness on his face or in his behavior, and drank some of the water.

He was definitely thinking more clearly, now that Alfred managed to calm him down a bit. Bruce was even thinking he was in control again when he saw him standing in the furthest corner of the room. Clark was there, isolated from the others, wearing miserable expression on his face and he was refusing to meet Bruce's eyes. For a short moment, Bruce heard the laughing voice in his head telling him: _He thinks you are weak! Hahah! Isn’t that funny, Brucie!_ And he caught himself considering that option, and for a moment, Clark felt helpless again, wanted to immediately prove Clark wrong, prove him that he was capable and strong. Then, he started to look at Clark’s with real attention and he saw it – the combination of regret, bitterness and powerlessness. He was always wearing this expression when he thought he failed in some way.

And it really should have occurred to Bruce sooner that Clark was not one to judge, or to call someone (let alone Bruce) weak. He should have thought that he would not be the only one feeling helpless, weak and out of control, that he wasn’t the only one who would be disturbed.

“What happened, father?” Damian asked in demanding voice.

“Nothing,” Bruce dismissed him and sipped the water again, just a little. He didn’t want his children to see how desperate he was after the water, especially after they had witnessed him faint.

“Would you like to move to bed, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked and there was a hint of worry in his voice though Bruce was pretty sure he was the only one who caught it.

He felt his expression go hard; he did not need anyone’s help. “No.”

Then, the billionaire sat up. He was feeling a bit dizzy again but it was nothing to comparison to the dizziness before so he risked getting up on his feet again. Damian, Tim and Cassandra stepped even more back, giving him space. It was a bit awkward for Bruce because of the cast on his arm, but eventually, he was standing and he had to admit that having his head on higher level than the rest of the people in the room helped a lot. He was focused on his breathing again and felt more in control.

He looked directly at Clark who was still standing in the corner. It was a small wonder that he had still been there. If Bruce was in Clark’s shoes, he would have been on his way from there but the reporter was a completely different man – he had to wait until he would be sure that Bruce was okay at least physically. But he was still there, not meeting Bruce’s eye, looking at the floor like a child after they had done something wrong and now was waiting to be confronted by the parents.

“Bruce!” Dick appeared in the door, still wearing Batsuit which made Bruce frown.

“Why didn’t you take it off in the Batcave?” Bruce asked, tactically changing the subject but also feeling the need to scold his oldest for being reckless.

But that wasn’t the end of the surprises of today, as it seemed, because right after Dick, Jason came inside and Bruce felt his body go stiff again.

“Would anybody tell me what the fu-” Jason noticed Alfred’s disapproving look and stopped in the middle of the word and said instead: “-what happened?”

“The alien,” Damian was the first one to talk; he looked furious and disgusted when he pointed at Clark who finally dared to look up. “Attacked father in the docks few days ago and now he attacked him again!”

Bruce opened his mouth to defend Clark but this time, it was Jason who was quicker: “Then what is that fuc-the alien still doing here?!” he asked with venom in his voice and while Bruce was glad that his second child cared for him to the point he wanted to protect him, he knew it wasn’t needed. It only made Bruce feel ridiculous and weak and he _wasn’t_ weak.

Finally, Dick spoke in calm tone, not judging or hateful unlike his brothers’ voices were: “Seriously, Clark, I think you should leave for now, it’d be for the best!”

“Shut up and listen to me!” Bruce growled loudly, finally gaining the attention of his family and Clark. “Clark is not going anywhere!”

“He’s already gone.”

Bruce barely registered Cassadra’s soft voice when she spoke. He quickly turned around and saw empty corner in front of one of his bookshelves and door to the balcony opened. It was still heavily raining outside and the powerful wind was breezing through the room, making the flame in the fireplace dance.

The billionaire felt how his lips pressed into a thin line. “Let’s make this clear!” he was looking between Jason and Damian, pointing at them threateningly with the fingers of his healthy hand. “No one of you will talk to Clark until I tell you can, let alone to blame him for what had happened! It was Joker’s doing and Joker’s alone!”

“But father-“

“I don’t want to hear another word from you tonight!” Bruce interrupted Damian, his tone leaving no room for further discussion. “Everyone go to your beds!”

There was a moment of silence, nobody moved for few second, the sons silently questioning Bruce’s authority in the family. The first one to move was Cassandra. She just turned around with words: “Good night, Bruce.”

She walked past Dick and then Jason. Tim followed her almost instantly along with Dick.

“You are welcome to stay here tonight, Jason,” Bruce heard himself saying, the angry edge leaving his voice.

The said man grimaced as if disgusted by the thought. “That’s really not-”

“I’ll prepare you a bed instantly, Master Jason,” Alfred told him with just good amount of kindness in his voice, and really, who could tell no to Alfred?

Jason froze, then shrugged and left the room at Alfred’s side, glancing over his shoulder at Bruce as if he was a predator watching another predator.

The last one to leave was Damian. He was frowning, the corners of his lips down and his arms were crossed over his chest defensively. And Bruce patiently waited for the outburst that was inevitable to come. And soon enough, his youngest son spoke: “Father, the alien-“

“Is my friend and you will treat him with respect,” the billionaire finished the sentence but not in a manner Damian had intended to. “None of this is his fault and you know it.”

Damian was stubbornly looking into his father’s eyes, challenging him in a very primal way, before he finally turned on his heel and stamped out of the room. Bruce was sometimes a bit worried how he was going to be able to deal with Damian after he would reach puberty.

The billionaire sighed and went to the door which Damian left rebelliously open and closed it. Then, he took the glass Alfred so kindly left behind for him, and drank the rest of it in one breath. He quickly went to bathroom, refilled it and drank again. He repeated the process three times before he finally had enough.

He left the glass on the nightstand and looked at the bed. He felt so tired he was even willing to risk the chance of having nightmares again but he knew he had to do something first.

He reached for his phone next to glass and dialed in Clark’s number. It took him three minutes of breathing exercises to calm himself enough to be able to push the call button.

Clark didn’t pick up. That wasn’t very surprising but Bruce found himself hurt anyway. He tried it again and again, and in the end, Clark had five missed calls.

Being desperate, Bruce decided to send him a text because, even though he hated writing them, it was still better than leaving message. This activity took him another fifteen minutes. He kept on writing them in hurry, then, read it to check it and found it was sounding ridiculous or too sentimental or (and that was in most cases) both of the above.

In the end, the billionaire decided for: ‘Clark, nothing that happened in the storehouse was your fault. It was the Joker venom in your blood and if you want to blame someone for it, blame him and not yourself. I’ve decided not to tell you because I figured this would have happened – you, blaming yourself for something that is not your fault. If you want, we can meet in the cave. You can text me when you have time and I’ll make sure the kids are not home.’

It didn’t come as a surprise that Clark didn’t respond but Bruce found himself hoping. No matter how much he felt tired, he couldn’t fall asleep, always waiting for the sound of his phone that would tell him the alien replied.

He was lying on the bed, under blanket and he still felt ridiculously cold. So he just stared at the ceiling and was thinking. About the night at the storehouse, about Clark… and a bit about Selina.

He had a… thing going on with Selina. Sometimes, not too often, they would meet. Nobody knew about it, Bruce made sure of it. They would come to a hotel room, under different names, usually out of Gotham, and Selina would bring… toys, so to speak. She would tie him while wearing seductive smile on her lips. She would be rough with him, tugging at his hair, scratching his skin and biting him, while he was bound, sometimes even gagged and blindfolded, and she would make his body sing with pleasure.

Bruce knew he was a controlling creature. He liked to know everything about everyone, to be prepared for anything. Hell, he even bought Daily Planet after he found out who Superman was. But sometimes, he liked to be stripped of that control.

And Bruce loved it. Loved when he was told what to do and how to behave, when he felt like he was there only for her wishes. Not all the time, just when he had too much of his shoulders.

The point was, that he loved losing control and yet, the night in storehouse, he was completely out of control but he didn’t enjoy it one bit. Bruce was thinking why it concerned him so much, why did his mind was still terrified by the memory of being controlled, being _conquered_ like that when he loved it when Selina ruled him…. And when he often fantasized about Clark taking him like that.

Only few days ago he would have lain in bed, dreaming about Clark’s hot hands touching him all over, pushing him down and whispering half-threats, half-promises into his ear in deep, husky voice, and he’d be merciless.

Bruce would have come while thinking about his best friend fucking him, and then he would have called Selina to meet with her for another scene.

And a very small, tiny part of Bruce still found the thought of Clark taking over him arousing. But the rest of his brain, the stupid, irrational part that Bruce hated right now, found the thought terrifying.

Then the realization hit him like a lightning strike. Of course, he and Selina had agreed on certain terms. There were rules, most of which Bruce himself set and Selina respected it from the first to the last one without exception. It was probably the only occasion where Selina respected what Bruce wanted. She still refused to behave on the streets though and they still had their disagreements on the streets but she had never hold what they did in the hotel rooms against him. Selina showed him how he could give up control without really losing it.

He should have realized why it was terrifying in the storehouse right away. It was because there was a huge difference between being conquered and between being ruled.

Bruce felt the sudden need to make sure he still could be ruled, that he would be alright again, that he wasn’t broken. He quickly reached for his phone (still no message from Clark) and dialed in Selina’s number. She picked up few seconds later which made the billionaire worry a bit because that usually meant she was on a job somewhere.

“Oh, look who’s calling,” she purred into the phone. “My favorite millionaire.”

“I’m billionaire,” Bruce corrected her but with no anger in his voice, to the contrary, he felt very relieved that she had picked it up, so much he would even overlook her being awake at this hour doing whatever she was doing. “When do you have time?”

She sighed over-dramatically. “Always straight to business… you are no fun, Brucie!”

The word made his brain freeze for a short second, remembering Clark’s cold laughter, after he had called him that. He recovered quickly though and asked her soon enough that she wouldn’t recognize him having a problem with the nickname. “When are you free?”

“I’m always free for you, my dear,” she told him seductively. “Whenever you like… except for tonight. Tonight, I’m doing girly things.”

Bruce frowned and couldn’t help but make a waspish note: “I can imagine what those girly things are and it’s not good,” He heard her breathe in, preparing to reply in the same tone, but the billionaire was quicker. “What about in a week? In the hotel Lion Heart in New York.”

“Normally, I’d ask you why so long in advance, but I like your style,” she purred, clearly pleased by the choice of five-star hotel. Usually, they went into four-stars, it was a bit less obvious. “Around 8PM?”

“Deal. Good night, Selina,” Bruce wished her. “Be good.”

He could hear the smirk in the voice when she answered: “I’m always good, my dear.”

She made the corner of his lips pull up in a small smile a bit, the first one in days. He hung up and laid on his back.

It was hard to believe, but the billionaire felt almost at peace after talking to her. He felt like he could sleep an hour or two without any nightmares.

Bruce wrapped the blankets around himself and finally closed his eyes. 

* * *

 

He woke up feeling heavy body on his, pushing him into the ground with the weight so hard he couldn’t breathe. It took Bruce a minute to realize where he was because he felt so damn cold again. He tried one of his breathing exercises to calm his senses.

After his heartbeat was regular again, he opened his eyes out of habit and frowned when he saw a figure in front of the open door.

He immediately propped up on his elbows and for once worry and not fear filled his heart. He asked: “What wrong, Cassandra?”

The girl glanced on the ground, then back at him. “I can’t sleep.”

Bruce sat up, threw his legs over the edge and patted the place on bed next to him. Cassandra continued to stand there for few more seconds, then she moved gracefully and sat next to the billionaire.

“Now tell me, what’s wrong,” Bruce told her, not in commanding tone but in considerate one.

Her answer was simple. “I’m scared.”

The man immediately felt himself go into the father-mode. “You know he can’t hurt you anymore, don’t you?”

She frowned, only slightly, other than that, her expression stayed unchanged. “I’m not scared for myself.”

Bruce didn’t expect that but he still didn’t bat an eyelid. He was considering closely what was the right thing to say to this. She seemed to know what exactly was going on in his head, and watched him with calm eyes.

Just when the man wanted to tell her that there was no need to worry, Cassandra leaned closer and hugged him. He immediately felt the need to push her away, not because it would bring bad memories but out of habit, because even after all these years, he still felt a bit taken aback when his kids wanted to do… those parent-kid stuff.

And then Bruce remembered Cassandra’s words “ _He never let me hold him,_ ” and he felt his body move as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. It still felt a little strange, to have a daughter.

“He’s sorry,” She said filling the silence, her tone kind.

Bruce knew she was talking about Clark and his body went stiff. He didn’t want to talk about this, let alone with one of his kids but instead of refusing this and telling her to go back to bed, he heard himself saying: “I know.”

Cassandra moved, snuggling closer. “He feels responsible… guilty. His actions, his crime.”

“He shouldn’t,” Bruce answered immediately. It was strange but he wasn’t feeling scared yet, talking about this and being touched.

“I know.”

The billionaire was surprised by her answer. He had expected her to be like his sons, blaming Clark for the assault on their father. But he was glad for it, glad that at least someone was at his and Clark’s side and understood.

“Thank you,” he said, despite feeling extremely awkward saying those words.

Cassandra had to feel it because she pulled away and looked him in the eye with tiny smile on her lips. “Any time… You should talk to him.”

“I know… I will,” Bruce promised and she smiled some more and left the room without another word.

Bruce laid back down and fell asleep in few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. There is not enough of Cass in fanfics so here she is! I hope she stayed in character...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed that in a lot of superbat fics, people seem to prefer Clark's POV, and I actually admire them because I found Clark really hard to write. Anyway, here's my attempt to write a bit of Clark's POV, and I hope you'll enjoy it! Also, Lois Lane!

Clark woke up again. It was for the sixth time in a row. He kept on waking up after dreaming about being trapped in his body, destroying everything around him, fighting his friends… fighting Bruce, after waking up after he choke him to death.

Fortunately, it was already morning, anyway, and he got up on his feet and headed to the bathroom. His stomach twisted again as he was walking, the guilt laid like a rock in his heart and there was a big lump in his throat. He saw him again, begging, trying to wake him up, to make him see reason. And he had laughed at him.

Clark felt nausea again and he quickly left the shower, the shampoo still in his hair, and he bent over the toilet bowl and puked what of the little he still had in his stomach.

When he thought that there was nothing left in his stomach and thus nothing to puke, he went back and finished the shower.

He didn’t think that he would be able to eat so he skipped the breakfast, went back to his bedroom and dressed up in his cheap suit. He was standing in his bedroom for few more minutes, though. He stared at his phone on the nightstand, thinking about the text Bruce had sent him shortly after he had left the manor last night.

Clark hadn’t read it yet. He didn’t want to. Bruce wouldn’t blame him, of course, but his children were right. He should have been stronger, he shouldn’t have let Joker infect him with the venom, and he shouldn’t have hurt Bruce, his friend… his best friend.

How could he even look Bruce in the eye after this? After failing him like this?

He gulped again, taking the phone with him, only because he needed it for work, and then left the apartment.

The way to the Daily Planet seemed to be longer than usual. Clark wished he could just fly there and get to work, he even half-wished there would be some crisis which he could rush to; anything to stop thinking about Bruce.

He caught himself listening for Bruce heartbeat again and was relieved that the other man sounded like he was still sleeping. He didn’t sound like he was having a nightmare either which made Clark feel a little better.

He entered the building of his workplace and got almost immediately called to Perry’s office. He had expected it.

When the alien walked through the office cubicles, he felt everyone’s eyes on him. For a moment, he even caught a sight of Lois. The moment she saw him, her eyes widened and she was giving him the questioning look. She was going to try to make him to tell her everything. Clark felt even worse when he realized that. The only thing he wanted to do right now was bury his nose deep in the work so he could stop thinking.

Clark knocked on the door to Perry’s office with shaking hand. He heard Perry yell something that could be: “Enter!” and he opened the door.

The reporter always liked Perry’s office. It was big with expansive table and chair that reminded Clark of the one in Bruce’s own office. Now, he didn’t want to look at it and instead focused on the window behind Perry. He could see the city park from there and if Clark paid enough attention, he could even see whole the playing there.

Another thing that only make his guts knot up; how could he protect his city, his whole world, if it only took one small shot of Joker venom and he was ready to destroy it. He felt a need to throw up again but this time he forced his body not to react on it. He couldn’t run out of Perry’s office after he had just got there.

Perry, who was currently talking to someone on the phone, gestured for him to sit down. That only mean a huge speech about responsibilities of his work was coming up next.

He tried to look normal and not as defeated as he felt.

He didn’t pay attention to the conversation Perry had over the phone not only because it would be impolite but also because his thoughts wandered back to the storehouse. He blamed himself for it, mostly, but he also felt anger against the man who had really started this. He wanted to go and kill Joker. He wanted to keep punching him until there would be nothing left of him except for a pool of blood and smashed bones; until the maniac would stop laughing.

Clark felt how his fists clinched. He wanted to hurt that bastard so much that the anger was clouding his mind like a fog. He tried to control his breathing; he wanted to get his control back.

“Kent,” Perry’s voice brought him back to the reality and for the time of being pushed the anger into the back of his mind.

“Y-Yes, Mr. White?” Clark forced himself to croak weakly.

“We need to talk about your lately absence.”

* * *

Bruce woke up with another nightmare. In this one, Clark was choking him while laughing in his face but just before Bruce had died, Clark’s face shifted into Joker’s.

But today, when he opened his eyes, he knew immediately that he was safe in his bedroom. The heavy rain of last night was over now, replaced by bright shiny morning. Or rather shiny afternoon, it seemed.

Bruce frowned, when he saw that the sun was already above the curtains of his windows. That only happened when it was already past eleven. He propped up on his elbows and looked around.

The second he saw his phone on the nightstand, he reached for it. and looked if there were any missed calls. He knew it would have waked him up but he wanted to be sure anyway. He was a little disappointed when there was nothing but he quickly shook the feeling off. Clark needed time and he would give it to him. He himself wasn’t sure he could meet him eye to eye yet. But he also didn’t know whether it would be worse if he would wait.

Bruce pushed the thoughts away. For now, he needed to get dressed and make sure that his kids were already in school.

He got up, leaving what little warmth his bed was providing to him, and quickly got dressed. Before he left his bedroom, he booked the hotel room for him and Selina for one night next week. They told him they were full at first since this kind of hotel was very popular, but then Bruce mentioned his name and their attitude changed from unwilling to eager-to-please in a millisecond.

The billionaire found Alfred in the kitchen.

“It seems you slept tonight more than you had in the last week, Master Bruce,” Alfred mentioned when the billionaire entered.

Bruce gave him an annoyed look, didn’t reply and opened the fridge to take out some orange juice and drank the whole glass. He never understood how Alfred did it but it always looked like he could always know when the billionaire would get up and have the meal ready just in time.

Alfred put a plate with two sandwiches on the breakfast table in the middle of the kitchen. Bruce thanked him quietly, refilled his glass with juice and started to eat. He hadn’t been eating the last few days very much and he knew he needed to get something into his stomach to keep his strength.

“Lucius Fox has called this morning,” Alfred said as Bruce was slowly chewing his meal. “He asked whether or not will you attend today’s meeting at Wayne Enterprises.”

Bruce thought about it only for a minute. “I will.” He said in decisive tone. He thought that perhaps a bit of real work would do him good. He was slowly going insane, staying in the manor for so long.

“And how are you going to explain your fractured wrist?” Alfred raised his eyebrows. Sometimes, even Bruce wasn’t sure whether the butler was being sassy or not. But he was pretty sure that he was that right now, so he frowned.

“I’ll tell them that I was clumsy,” Bruce replied dryly. “They know I’m being clumsy all the time.”

Alfred gave him a very unamused look but didn’t comment. Instead, he asked: “What about the charity ball tomorrow? Do you plan to attend?”

Bruce frowned, he completely forgot about the charity ball he was organizing for the victims of domestic violence, he had planned for tomorrow. He didn’t think he could go there right now. He wasn’t in the mood for curious stares, invasive questions and smiley masks. “No, I don’t think so.”

Alfred simply nodded and walked right out of the room, leaving Bruce to eat his breakfast.

He managed to eat one whole sandwich but he couldn’t bring himself to eat the second. The food was tasteless to the taste buds on his tongue but he supposed it was another side effect of the stress he had been through the last few days. The billionaire also hoped his taste would come back because despite his occasional complaining, he really enjoyed Alfred’s meals.

After Bruce finished his lunch, he decided to go to Batcave because he still had few hours before he would go to Wayne Enterprises for the meeting.

He went to the library and came to a halt when he saw Jason in one of the chairs near the door to the balcony. He was reading a book he had probably borrowed from one of his bookshelves. The billionaire was surprised that Jason was still here.

The moment Bruce walked into the room; Jason put the book down, on the small side table on which someone put also a tray with tea for the young man, most likely Alfred.

They stared at each other for few seconds in complete silence. Finally, Jason spoke first: “Dick and I ran into each other yesterday. He refused to tell me what happened.”

He said it in voice seemingly without any emotions but Bruce could hear a tiny amount of worry in it and it brought a bit of warmth into Bruce’s body which felt so cold lately. The billionaire was always surprised when Jason showed he still cared for his father after everything he had done and caused his second oldest son.

“I told you what happened yesterday,” Bruce said in neutral tone and walked to the bookshelf behind which was the passage to the Batcave.

“Well, Dick didn’t seem to think that’s all what happened,” Jason growled annoyingly and rose to his feet.

The billionaire kept his neutral tone when he replied: “Dick is wrong.”

Jason frowned. “Bruce, if the alien is giving you troubl-“

“He’s not giving me trouble,” Bruce snapped. “He was under the influence of Joker venom, that’s it. I don’t need to be saved from anyone and even if I did, it surely as hell wouldn’t be from him.”

“If he’so s innocent, where the hell is he?” Jason demanded, snapping in the same manner like Bruce before him.

But the billionaire refused to back down. “He’s at work.”

Jason snorted mockingly.

Bruce took one deep breath to calm himself and said slowly, in serious manner: “Jason, we both know Joker is insane and will do anything to hurt anybody, especially me and people close to me. He used Superman to get me hurt and he almost succeeded.”

“So, you are telling me that Supes is even more a victim here than you are?” Jason raised his eyebrows.

“Much more,” Bruce confirmed, knowing he was right. He knew very well what it was to lose unwillingly control over his own body, and knew that it felt much worse than being assaulted.

Jason smirked but it was one of those mean ones and the billionaire prepared himself for words that would sting. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Supes is your friend and your friends often get hurt.”

Bruce didn’t have an answer for that, especially since it was true, so he simply turned around and walked into the Batcave. Jason didn’t say anything else but there was a strange tension in the air that told Bruce he was considering if telling Bruce something like that was right thing to do.

* * *

Bruce went through the reports from Dick’s patrols but there was no sign of Joker. It made the Caped Crusader feel even more uneasily. Not to hear about Joker when they knew that he was out there, was never a good sign. Only god knew what he would come up with but it had never been something good.

Dick pleased Bruce, though, when the billionaire read the report how he and the rest of his children (even Jason to Bruce’s delight) had taken down Two-Face and majority of his gang. He was always so much proud of his children, how much they had accomplished and that even though they had their own problems and sometimes fought each other, they always stayed family. Even, or maybe especially, Jason.

Of course, there were things about Jason’s lifestyle Bruce didn’t approve of – like shooting people – but hopefully, his second son would come to his senses eventually.

By the time he was finished with the reports, it was time to go to the meeting. He took another shower and visited his company. There were looks, of course, because how often could one see a billionaire with a cast on their arm?

Bruce charmingly avoided any questions about his physical condition from the few reporters he met, as well as few members of the board of directors in his company. Lucius was eyeing him a bit but Bruce decided that he could tell him the truth later.

The whole day, Bruce was checking his phone, waiting for a message from Clark… for anything and received nothing. But he knew Clark went to work today, he looked into the record of Daily Planet, so at least he knew the alien was alive.

The billionaire couldn’t help it and he occasionally checked the security camera at Daily Planet with which he could see Clark’s cubicle. He usually didn’t do something like this – it was creepy even for him – but he just wanted to make sure Clark was okay. The problem was that Clark didn’t look okay, he looked terrible.

There were dark circles under his eyes, he was pale and every few minutes he stopped working and desperately ran his hand into his hair or hid his face in palms. At one occasion, he crushed a pen in his hand.

Bruce remembered how he looked like the second day after the assault but honestly, Clark looked worse. It made Bruce’s heart ache. This was not what he wanted. Why couldn’t Clark see none of this was his fault? He wanted to go to the Daily Planet that very moment and shake with Clark until the alien would come to his senses but the billionaire thought that something like that could have catastrophically consequences for both of them. Maybe, they both needed time. Especially Clark.

After the meeting, he felt more in control than in the last few days. He went home again and meditated. He finally reached point when he didn’t see the cold smile on his friend’s face the moment he closed his eyes but the laughter still sounded in his ears and from now and then, he had to open his eyes to chase away the image of Joker.

Well, at least he didn’t have a panic attack the whole day, which he considered a small victory.

But by the night, he was feeling restless again. Dick was supposed to be looking for clues but he didn’t call him or left him any messages. Thinking about that reminded Bruce that Clark still didn’t answer and resisted the need to call the reporter but Bruce didn’t act upon it. Time, he kept on telling himself, but every time he had done that the will to wait was weaker and weaker.

He couldn’t sleep again that night, or to be more accurate, he didn’t want to. He mediated for a while but somehow, his mind couldn’t find any rest. Even though he didn’t feel dizzy again, the billionaire felt as if he was captured between being scared of the laughter that played in his mind, and between feeling guilty that Clark was in his apartment, blaming himself for something that wasn’t his fault. He always felt one of those.

Bruce wished he knew what the _right_ choice was. He so desperate, he even considered to go to Alfred for advice which was not going to happen. It would only make the old butler feel more worried about Bruce than he already was. Plus, Bruce was pretty sure his pride wouldn’t allow him to do that.

He was torn between going to Clark’s place that very instant to kick some sense into the alien, and between not talking to him ever again because the thought of confronting him scared the hell out of Bruce. The billionaire was still uncertain if not talking to each other for a while would be good or bad idea. On one hand, it could give both of them time to get over it, to recover from the traumatic experience. But, on the other hand, it could also build up tension which would make their inevitable reunion unbearable and very stressful.

And given how much Bruce felt stressed right now, knowing about Clark’s feelings, it looked like it was the later.

Suddenly, he got an idea.

* * *

Clark's day was one big disaster. First, Perry told him he just couldn't take three days off work and not to tell anyone, and also not to turn in the articles he had promised to finish. It was unacceptable behavior, Perry told him, and Clark knew he should be feeling guilty about it but he didn't. He felt strangely numb during Perry's whole speech. He been listening to him but he felt empty and the words that were supposed to be inspirational and motivating had absolutely no effect on him. The only good thing about it had been that he hadn't think about Bruce for a couple of minutes.

After his talk with Perry, Clark tried to loose himself in the work, but the only thing he managed to do was to be very edgy so every time one of his coworkers visited his cubicle to ask him about something, he got startled.

Fortunately, none of his coworkers asked him about it. But he knew it would come sooner or later. He spent the whole day in the office cubicle, trying not to think about Bruce which proved to be difficult, especially when Jimmy came and started to tell him how the “Brucie” Wayne got terribly drunk and somehow managed to break his arm. He was laughing, and the only thing Clark could do was to get up, excuse himself with pathetic imitation of smile and run to the toilets so he could vomit. By the time he returned to his cubicle, Jimmy was gone.

Nobody else spoke to him for most of the day, and since Clark was lucky and there wasn't any incident that would require attention of the Superman, he was able to stay in the work late.

As the day was slowly replaced by the night behind the windows, more and more of people were leaving the office. Jimmy dropped by to say bye. Clark could see on him that he knew the comments about Bruce Wayne somehow hit the nerve and he was giving him an apologetic look. Clark just smiled at him tiredly and got back to work.

When he heard the graceful but confident steps coming to his cubicle, he could already hear that there were only two people on this floor, including him.

“Okay, Smallville,” Lois leaned against the wall. She was wearing kind but adamant expression on her face. “Tell me, what's going on.”

Clark closed tiredly his eyes but only for a moment, then he opened them again but still refused to look at his friend, instead pretending to be too busy with working. “Nothing,” he told her.

On his nape, he could feel the fierce look she was giving him. “That's bullshit and we both know it. Tell me what was happening during the last three days before I use my unsurpassable journalist skills on you and make you.”

The alien didn’t chuckle as he would usually do; he just sighed and turned around in his chair to face her. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was giving him that look which always reminded him of his ma; then he admitted in voice that sounded a lot like a sob: “I messed up.”

It took a moment Loise to reply. A frown appeared between her eyebrows and she uncrossed her arms, going from defensive to worried posture in seconds. “How did you messed up?” she asked carefully and slowly.

Clark didn't answer right away. He didn't even have any idea what to say, how to say it, even whether he was able to speak about it. He felt like saying it out loud was the worst part about it, that it would make it more real. He gulped few times in a row, hid his face in palms and wept quietly: “Something happened. I've done something... terrible.”

There was a moment of silence after his words, and then he heard Lois move. She stepped closer to him, put her hands on his, and pulled them down so they wouldn't cover his face. When Clark met her eyes, she was looking at him with kindness and a bit of compassion. “Clark, tell me what happened in Gotham.”

She stroked his hands gently, encouraging him to talk and finally, Clark spoke: “When I was in Gotham, before I could speak with Batman, I heard desperate cries for help from a bank not far from where I was so I flied to it. Before I got there, the cries stopped.”

Clark stopped, suddenly feeling the bitterness that made his stomach clench up in knots again. He shouldn't be so reckless. Why was he so reckless? Batman was always telling him not to be! He shouldn't have go there just like that; what an idiot he is...

“Smallville, you’re not an idiot. Please, just tell me what happened.”

He didn’t even realize was talking out loud and now Lois was looking at him more worriedly than before.

The alien gulped again and continued: “There was a group of people. They were just… laughing. The alarm was off, the vault was open, and there was strange smell in the air, and so I asked them what happened and they just… kept laughing…. I guess I should have known by then it was Joker’s doing but... I… I just x-rayed them and then found out that they were poisoned by Joker venom. I wanted to call Batman how to handle the situation, how to help them, and then I felt a sting on my nape… It was… I think he poisoned me that way because then everything looked… blurry. I don’t remember what I was doing the next few hours… I have only snatched of memories but… it felt like I… was in my body and wasn’t at the same time.”

I remember talking to Joker, but I can’t really recall what we were talking about there was just… so much laughter.” Clark was feeling nauseated again; fortunately, Lois sensed his distress, and she reached for his hand again, helping him to calm himself.

When the alien felt like he could open his mouth without vomiting, he continued: “I was in Central City at some point, talking with Barry as if there was nothing wrong with me… I was at Star City… I think I even talked to Wonder Woman at one point… it’s all just so blurry… I remember only slight fragments of this. And then… I spoke to Joker again. And I remember him telling me that Batman and I should do something funny, so we decided to set a little trap for him and I waited for him in an abandoned building and then he came and I… and I-“

There it was again. The knots in his stomach, the sweat coming down on his forehead and blurry vision, and before he knew what he was doing, he was at the restroom, throwing up and clenching the toilet bowl between his fingers, barely stopping himself from destroying it.

He heard Lois calling his name, still in his office cubicle, confused and worried. He didn’t answer her; instead, he leaned against the cubicle. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he must had used his super-speed otherwise, she wouldn’t sound so confused.

Just when the alien heard Lois call him with desperation in her voice, his phone went off. Clark heard himself groan in desperation before he stood up, straightening his back. The last thing he needed right now was a phone call but he reached into his pocket for it and looked at the screen.

It was Perry. Clark really hoped it was not going to be another motivation speech. He just wanted to go fly around the city to take his mind off Bruce.

But he knew he needed to answer the phone so he took a deep breath and put the phone to his ear. “Hi, Perry.”

“Kent, I just got a call from Mr. Wayne,” his boss informed him and Clark swore he just wanted to sink down, on the floor of the restroom and never get up. He feels as if a nightmare had just become a worse nightmare. His head was cloudy, his hands started to sweat and his heart started to beat so fast, he almost missed the rest of what Perry had to say.

“He said that he wants specifically you to come to the charity ball that’s held in Gotham tomorrow and cover it. Seriously Kent, I have no idea how you did it, but it looks like you are made a good impression on that man. You should consider yourself lucky.” Perry told him with a hint of envy in his tone.

Clark didn’t feel lucky. He wanted to do nothing more than to fly into space, to the moon, and never come back. This was Bruce’s attempt – and a very successful one, for the matter – to make him talk to him. And the reporter wasn’t sure he was ready for it. What if he got too close to Bruce and the other man would faint again? How could Clark even _look_ into his eyes after what he had done? He remembered the fear with which Bruce had looked at him yesterday, just before he had lost consciousness. He remembered the sweat on Bruce’s forehead, how pale he was, how when he had been doing the medical tests on him in the Batcave, he was shaking like a leaf in wind. And no wonder he had been so terrified of Clark. How could Clark face the man who meant so much to him, the man he was in love with for years, after what he had done to him?

But there was a part in his mind that was whispering to him that he should go there, if only because it was Bruce’s wish. No matter what Bruce was going to say, Bruce deserved to be heard. The reporter knew he needed to give Bruce at least control over when and where they would talk.

“Are you there, Kent?” Perry asked, still on the phone, and Clark realized he was quiet for too long.

“Yes,” he said immediately, trying to sound calm, but failing miserably. “I’ll go there, if Mr. Wayne wants me to. At what hour?”

“The even starts at 8PM,” Perry told him, and there was hesitation in his tone that informed Clark he wasn’t sure if sending him was a good idea. “Be there in time, Clark.”

“I will,” Clark promised dutifully.

Perry stayed silent for few more seconds, and then he wished Clark good night and hung up.

Clark just stood there, clenching his fists helplessly, when Lois found him, softly said: “Oh, Clark,” and then hugged him from behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Clark didn’t sleep that night. Not that it meant much since he didn’t need a lot of sleep anyway. But he’d always liked it, enjoyed it. Now, he found the thought of closing his eyes alone unsettling. At nights like this, he wished it would have been easier to get drunk.

He was sitting on the bed in a five-star hotel in Gotham, spending hours staring on the wall. After he had come here, he just put the bag with his clothes on the bed and his suit for the charity ball into the closet. Then, he had sat down and waited. He didn’t dare to go at patrol, partly because he just felt so damn tired but also because he didn’t want to run into Bruce’s kids here. They made clear what they thought about him right now and they had every right to think that way.

Clark looked at the old, but beautiful clock above the door. He had still three hours before he would have to get dressed. He felt like throwing up again but managed to hold it in. Today, he only vomited three times, which was a small victory, but every time he thought about Bruce or about what was going to happen tonight, he wanted to empty his already empty stomach again.

He knew he should get up and take a shower but he couldn’t find the energy to do so. Instead, he lay back, stretching out on the double bed. He distantly thought it would be nice to cover himself with the blanket. Then, he remembered his ma. Maybe, it would be best to come back to Smallville, at least for few weeks. His ma had always managed to cheer him up. Then he imagined telling her, and his stomach clenched in knots. He couldn’t tell her that her son almost raped his best friend. She would be horrified and he could barely stand the thought of the expression his ma would wear if he had told her about it, let alone if he had to see that expression for real.

The alien finally reached for the blanket. He wanted to hide from the world and never come back to life; he wanted to just die in darkness.

A tired sigh escaped his mouth, and he rolled over at his side, staring at the open door leading to a bathroom that looked several times better than his. He realized that he had stopped breathing at some point but that was okay since he didn’t really need to breathe when he wasn’t talking.

The only sound in the room was the rhythmic ticking of the clock. Clark found it strangely calming.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus only at the ticking of the clock, and counting the seconds in his mind. Clark didn’t even realize, until it was too late, but his mind instinctively focused on hearing the familiar sound of Bruce’s heartbeat. It was quickened and Clark almost sat up in alarm when he recognized pace which only meant Bruce was either in a fight or panicked or maybe both. In a second, he undressed himself, prepared go to the rescue when he came to a halt, realizing that it was maybe just a panic attack. He had read about what victims of an attempted sexual assault went through and panic attacks and generally PTSD were common.

Thus, Clark decided to slow down and listen carefully to the sounds around Bruce’s heartbeat. He recognized Alfred’s voice, asking Bruce if he was alright. It took the billionaire several seconds before he answered in seemingly calm voice: “I am fine, Alfred,” but Clark could hear his heart still racing, even though a bit slower.

Clark felt another wave of powerlessness and guilt wash over him. He wanted to lay back down on the bed and forever disappear in the depth of empty sleep but he knew he couldn’t. So, instead he finally headed to his bathroom and turned the shower on.

He didn’t feel much better after the shower but at least he could say he tried to do something to take his mind off this. Just when he was thinking it would probably be for the best if he just went outside for a short walk, his phone rung.

The reporter reached for it, half glad for the distraction, half terrified who might be calling him. In the end, it was only Lois and Clark felt relieved.

He had told her everything, once he had started talking with her yesterday, sitting and sobbing on the toilet lid feeling like a human wreck. She had hugged him, pulling him as close as she could, and whispered soft, comforting words that she was sure he didn’t mean to hurt Bruce, that Bruce was probably aware of that, and that maybe it was a good idea to go to the charity ball because they needed to talk. She told him that mostly the Joker is on the blame and not Clark but the reporter felt like if he wouldn’t have tried to rape Bruce if he wasn’t feeling attracted to him. After all, Joker was Bruce’s worst enemy; he was the maniac who had done terrible, horrible things to Bruce and others – he had blown up a school full of kids, he had killed Jason, he had tortured and crippled Barbara. But he had never tried to rape Bruce, _never_. And when Clark had been poisoned with the venom, he had tried to do just that. It must have been influenced by Clark’s own feelings, there was no other explanation.

Clark would lie if he said he had never thought what it would be like to be with Bruce sexually, after all, the Batman was an attractive man but that wasn’t everything. Clark didn’t think of Bruce as about potential partner until he had gotten to know him. And when Clark had, he’d been fascinated, almost obsessed with the other man. Bruce had not only beautiful body but he had a brilliant mind, and despite his cool demeanor, there was so much passion, so much _fire_ in him. Clark considered him the most dangerous person on the planet, and maybe that was part of why he was so hopelessly in love with him. He often fantasized about taking him; sometimes making love to him gently and sweetly, on other times (especially after they had fight), he thought what it would be like to pin him down and fuck him hard until Bruce would beg.

Now, the thought of taking Bruce make Clark feel dirty and disgusting with himself. He felt the urge to vomit but managed to maintain the control.

Needing to do something, he picked up the phone. “Yes, Lois?”

“Hi, Smallville,” she greeted him kindly, but there was also a hint of worry in her voice, and Clark wasn’t sure if he was happy about that. He didn’t deserve any compassion. “How are you holding up?”

Clark opened his mouth to tell her that he was fine but both of them would know it would be a lie, and if he couldn’t be honest with Lois whom he could be with? His mind, not so helpfully told him that with Bruce but that wasn’t true, not anymore.

“I don’t want to go there,” he told her honestly, knowing too well he sounded like a crybaby.

“I know,” she told him. “But remember, this isn’t only about you, Clark.”

She didn’t say the last part accusingly but rather stating the fact as it was. Both of them knew that Bruce was feeling the same helplessness as Clark was, if not worse. And if Bruce wanted to talk, Clark would talk to him.

“He doesn’t blame you, you know?” Lois told him softly.

Clark closed his eyes. “I know.”

There was a moment of silence, Lois probably considering how to say whatever she was going to tell him. “Listen, Smallvile, I’m not saying that I don’t get why you are blaming yourself, I do. But you need to realize that the Joker is the bad guy here. I know you would never hurt Bruce intentionally. Everyone with a pair of eyes and/or ears would know that because every time you see him, you look at him as if he hung the moon and the stars in the sky.”

Clark felt how his heart had skipped a beat. He thought his feelings weren’t so obvious. He panicked a little, as if Lois had just found a proof that he had committed some terrible crime.

He quickly calmed down again and asked her: “Do you think he knows?” Because, oh God, if Bruce knew he would also know why he had tried to rape him. He would know it was all Clark’s fault.

Lois sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure. When it comes to love and feelings, you both are totally oblivious.”

Clark felt a little offended at those words but before he could start to argue with her, Lois continued in serious tone: “Now, Clark, please listen to me. You need to stay calm and be yourself and for the god’s sake, don’t avoid Bruce. It will make things worse for you and for him. Also, Clark, I want you to promise me that you will read the text he sent to you the other night. Because I know you haven’t, don’t even try to lie to me.”

The alien wasn’t suddenly sure if telling Lois about that had been a good idea, but there was no point in arguing with her. Now wasn’t time to be a coward. He told her: “Okay, I’ll read it.”

“Good,” she sounded pleased by that. “Now, if you need anything, I’ll be right here so don’t worry and call me.”

“Alright,” Clark nodded again.

There was another moment of silence between then, then she said softly and tenderly: “I love you, Smallville.”

Her words filled Clark with emotion. Even if their relationship didn’t work out, Lois would always have a special place in his heart, and he would always love her as a friend.

“I love you, too.” He told her honestly.

Even though he didn’t see her face, he knew she smiled before she hung up. And the warmth feeling in his heart was slowly fading away.

After several minutes of hesitating and gaining confidence, he opened the text Bruce had sent him. None of the content came as a surprise. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t blame him for what had happened even though he had the right to do so. He could imagine the billionaire tapping this text, always the voice of reason. Clark chuckled but it was pathetic, sad sound.

He felt like vomiting again when he remembered how he tore Bruce’s suit and touched his muscular, scarred but mainly vulnerable stomach, and how Bruce begged him to _break through_. Another wave of desperation and helplessness hit him.

Clark sat down and for several minutes was trying to shook these feelings off. He couldn’t be a mess on the charity ball.

His gaze fell upon the suit in the closet and he felt his stomach tied up in knots again. He needed to get ready for his and Bruce’s talk.

* * *

 

The charity ball took place in the hotel Clark was staying at, in the function hall of the hotel. It was a huge room, with two dozens of small round tables that were elegantly arranged, there was a dance-floor in the middle of the room, and a stage had been arranged in front of it where the classical band was preparing for the evening. The function hall in the back of the hotel near the restaurant and the bar, as far as it could be from the hotel rooms so the hotel guests wouldn’t have any troubles to sleep in unlikely case that the music would be too loud.

Clark and the other reporters and journalists were there early to make sure they saw and recorded everything, including Vicki Vale who tried to make a conversation with the alien but wasn’t very successful. Clark heard the others making the small talks, laughing and telling each other jokes and rumors about who was supposed to come. He even heard one of them saying that Bruce Wayne wouldn’t probably show up sand that he had heard that Bruce Wayne had gotten terribly drunk, gotten into a fight and then broke his wrist.

He felt uncomfortable again. It was strange, and as he was waiting at the entrance, his mood was rapidly switching between numbness and extreme anxiety.

The second event host (the first being Bruce) arrived first, asking questions the manager few questions if everything was alright, if the entertain and the waiting staff was ready and if the items for auction were ready. Clark wished he would pay enough attention to who the host actually was but he didn’t remember. He could always find it on the invitation later.

After that, the guests started to flew in fast, and in forty minutes, most of the guests had arrived. The band started to play on their instruments, filling the function hall with music. The people talked, laughed and Clark had interviewed few people who were on his list.

He didn’t drink any champagne the waiting staff was offering and instead waited, feeling on edge again.

Clark didn’t listen for Bruce’s heartbeat. He didn’t want to know when the other man was going to come to the event. However, the moment Bruce arrived, he knew. In an instant, the reporters were eager to get to the entrance to take a picture of the billionaire.

The alien, needing to do something with his hands, reached for the first glass of champagne, and drank all of it in one breath before he returned the glass to the waitress who was now looking at him as if he had grown a second head. He shortly considered running away and hiding in the restroom but that would be too much even for him.

And so he waited.

Of course, Bruce didn’t head to him right away. Once the billionaire entered the function hall, escaping the reporters who were throwing questions on him, he was facing another wave. He was smiling but for someone who knew him long enough like Clark, it was an obvious, fake smile. He was wearing another of his expansive suits, this time in very dark blue color, but he had only one arm in the sleeve. Because of the cast, he couldn’t have gotten into the other sleeve so he just threw the other half of his jacket over his shoulder and had the arm in a sling.

 Bruce was already looking around, his observant beautiful eyes were already scanning the room for the sight of his friend while he was cleverly and rather sassily dismissing the questions from the other reporters. Clark half hoped that he would develop a new power of invisibility but even then he was sure Bruce would find a way to locate him.

So, Clark was just standing there, in the corner of the room and waiting for the billionaire to notice him.

When that happened, it wasn’t like he had expected it to. He had imagined it would be like in one of those dramatic movies; that there would be dramatic music in the background, that his world would suddenly fall apart because everything that had happened at the storehouse would impact on him suddenly, and maybe he would even need to sit. None of that happened. Instead, Clark’s heartbeat fastened and, feeling like he should do something, Clark gave Bruce a small, awkward smile and nodded at him. He wasn’t even sure why he did smile, after all, this didn’t feel like a proper situation to smile. And Bruce certainly didn’t return it.

Clark heard him say: “Excuse me, I promised an exclusive interview for the Daily Planet,” and then Bruce was making his way through the crowd towards him.

Even though the room was huge and they were practically on the opposite sides, Clark found himself in front of the billionaire too soon.

“Clark,” Bruce greeted him. His heartbeat let Clark know that he wasn’t scared. Not yet.

It took the reporter several seconds to calm himself enough to answer: “Hi, Bruce.”

Bruce was watching him for a minute. There was an awkward silence, hanging in the air between them. Clark hated those but he knew that if he had opened his mouth right now to say something, only squawk would leave his mouth, if nothing more disgraceful.

“Let’s go somewhere private,” Bruce offered him, his voice unusually soft. “I arranged us a private room in the hotel. We can talk there.”

Before Clark could answer, Bruce turned on his heel and was leaving the room. Clark quickly followed him. They pretended to go to the restroom, but once they got to the door, they continued walking until they were in the kitchen. Clark was surprised that no one seemed to care that two men who clearly weren’t the staff were freely walking among them.

On any other occasion, the alien would probably be watching all those people cooking because the smell was just so good, but right now, he was too busy with watching Bruce’s nape as he followed him out of the kitchen, to the reception and then to the stairs.

For a second, Clark considered why Bruce decided not to take the elevator. Then, he imagined himself and Bruce alone, in tight and small space – the billionaire was scared of being with him alone there. And the reporter didn’t feel offended or hurt by it but the guilty feeling in his guts increased.

Neither of them spoke on their way there. Finally, they entered the room on the first floor. Bruce walked inside first and held the door for Clark with his right hand, looking at him with neutral expression. The room looked simple and almost identical to the one Clark was staying at. There was a double bed, a closet and door leading to the bathroom. The only difference was that this one also had a balcony. The curtains were drawn, giving the room a bit of intimacy.

Clark gulped and followed him there. Whether it was on purpose or just instinct, Bruce decided to stay near the door, near the easiest possible exit in case something threatening happened. The alien took place as far as he could, near the balcony.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes, both of them awkwardly watching the other and giving the other one an option to start the conversation.

When Clark finally overcame his fear and nervousness, he expected it would be like in one of those movies when the two people decide to speak at the same time, but it wasn’t. Bruce was just watching him with those beautiful, unreadable eyes, as Clark said: “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. I’m sorry I disappointed you. I’m sorry I attacked you. I’m sorry I caused you pain. I’m sorry I avoided you. Maybe, it was for all of these.

Bruce sighed. For a second, there was a hesitation in his movement, when he made the first step towards Clark, then he regained his confident, straight posture, and walked closer to Clark even though a bit more slowly than usually. He sat down on the bed and shook off the jacket of his suit.

Clark wondered if the billionaire was acting naturally or if he was trying to convince Clark with his body language that he did not considered him a real threat, and he was willing to show a bit of vulnerability doing this.

“Did you read my text?” Bruce asked, his voice giving no emotion away.

“Yes,” Clark said honestly.

“Then you know I don’t blame you for what happened,” Bruce grunted and shrugged restlessly – he hated talks like this.

Clark snorted unamusingly. “But you should. Bruce, what I did to you-“

“Was Joker’s fault.” Bruce finished for him impatiently. “Clark, I didn’t change my mind. Joker had manipulated you and he poisoned you. You weren’t in your mind.”

The alien was shaking his head. “No, no, no! I should’ve been more careful.”

Bruce remained silent for few following minutes. Clark could almost hear Bruce think; the billionaire’s eyes were slightly narrowed, and he pursed his mouth. He was considering, slowly, thinking about what to say and what would be the best way to say it. Finally, he looked up at Clark and said: “Do you want to tell me what happened? Before Joker got to you?”

Clark thought about the question, he needed to take a moment to take a breath. He appreciated Bruce giving him the option to refuse even though the reporter knew there really was none, it gave him the sense of control he was so desperate for, for the last few days.

Finally, Clark said softly: “No. I don’t.” and there was a short pause during which Bruce tensed but he immediately forced his body to relax again. That didn't stop Clark from hearing his worriedly beating heart, the Kryptonian finally added: “But I know everything will be easier if we just get this over with.”

Bruce simply nodded.

As Clark was talking about the things he remembered, he had to admit that everything was going better than he had expected. Bruce’s heartbeat which he was so closely listening to sounded normally and there was only little tension in his shoulders.

Bruce was listening to him patiently, not moving aside from breathing, and his eyes were fixed on Clark’s own. And for one, just one short moment Clark thought Bruce looked beautiful.

And the reporter’s mind supplied him with a memory of himself involuntary licking Bruce’s neck while his friend was fighting him to shake him off and pleading him to stop. Immediately, Clark felt utterly disgusted with himself. The words died in his throat in the middle of the sentence, just when he was talking about visiting Star City, and he had to run to the bathroom to vomit.

He heard Bruce gasp for breath when the other man got startled by his sudden movement. The pace of his heart quickened, but he didn’t move, he stiffened because of the shock. But the sound was blocked by Clark’s vomiting.

Bruce stayed there, probably still trying to calm down. Clark didn’t return to the room once he was finished; he was too busy with trying to get a hold of himself and to stop his hands from shaking so damn much.

Bruce was the first one to recover. “Clark?” he called but not too loudly.

He gave the alien an option to answer, an option Clark did not take, then Clark heard him get up, slowly, completely in control of his own body.

“Clark,” Bruce repeated made small, slow steps toward the bathroom.

“I’m fine,” the reporter finally said but it came out as a croak, barely hearable, so he repeated: “I’m fine.”

Bruce finally appeared in the doorframe, looking as pale as Clark was feeling. “You are not fine.” He informed him.

Clark still refused to look at him. He heard himself say in almost biting tone: “You are the one to talk.”

The room fell into heavy, tense silence, and Clark felt even more disgusted with himself than before. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“You are right,” Bruce said seemingly neutral tone but Clark knew him and there was a small hint of vulnerability in it. “Neither of us is fine…. But we will be, Clark. In time.”

Clark sobbed again, feeling desperate. “Bruce, I… what I’ve tried to do to you-“

“You didn’t want to do it!” Bruce interrupted him again, now sounding more frustrated. “I know you, Clark. And I know you would never willingly do that to me-”

It was too much at once. Clark couldn’t take it anymore, his stomach was knotting up again and he felt like throwing up again. Whatever was inside him needed to get out but when he opened his mouth it wasn’t vomit that came out but: “I love you.”

There was a very short second when neither of them moved, nor said anything. Then, it was as if the meaning of those words fell upon them. Bruce’s eyes widened, he gulped and his heartbeat quickened again but, this time, fear wasn’t the source of his panic.

Clark was panicking as well, feeling as if he had just confessed to committing a terrible crime. Bruce was about to say something, but Clark was quicker: “That was why I tried to… tried to rape you. I’ve loved you for so long and when Joker poisoned me… even then I remember thinking about you and then… oh God, I’m so sorry, Bruce. I’ve loved you for so long and if I didn’t love you… Bruce, I’m so sorry.”

Clark knew he was babbling like an idiot but he couldn’t stop. He watched Bruce’s face carefully, searching for the expression of disgust, or blame, or rejection but Bruce still didn’t fully recover from what Clark had said because there was only pure shock on his face.

Then, the billionaire leaned against the doorframe and hid his face in palms. He breathed heavily, and slowly slid on the frame down, until he was sitting on the cold, bathroom floor, the same way Clark was.

He chuckled unamusingly. “You are apologizing for loving me?”

Clark shut the lid of the toilet and leaned against the bathtub, his look still avoiding Bruce’s eyes. It was strange, two superheroes, pale and looking comically desperate, on the floor of a hotel bathroom.

“Yes,” Clark finally said. “If I didn’t love you, this would have never happened.”

“No,” Bruce agreed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You would just try to beat me to death.”

The reporter grimaced uncomfortably but before he could start to argue, the other man continued with a question: “Do you find me attractive?”

Clark’s mouth went dry. “What?”

“Do you find me attractive?” Bruce raised his eyebrows, finally looking up and dropped his arms down on his knees. His expression gave away nothing.

Clark hesitated a little before admitting: “Yes… But that’s not everythi-“

“Then, it is likely that you would try to rape me anyway,” Bruce shrugged as if he was talking about the weather. “Joker always tries to strike where he knows it would hurt the most, and in fact he himself is a rapist. Once again, the fault is his for poisoning you, Clark.”

The said man was shaking his head again, feeling slowly slipping into another panic attack. “No, no, no. I-“

“I love you, too.”

The words pulled the Kryptonian almost magically back from his raising panic; his eyes widened and he gazed into the other man’s eyes. Bruce had a strange expression on his face, as if he didn’t believe what he had just said and it had left strange taste on his tongue, and his cheeks had barely noticeable shade of red.

“You… what?” Clark asked, still not quite believing what Bruce, the man he had been in love with for _years_ , had just said.

Bruce grimaced and finally looked like his usual, grumpy self. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Normally, Clark would have chuckled, because Bruce looked so cute when he was grumpy, but right now, he was still in denial. “But… you can’t love me.”

When Bruce frowned at him reprovingly, the other man elaborated: “It’s just… you deserve so much _more_.”

A small smile tugged by Bruce’s lips, the first real smile Clark had seen on him in what felt like ages. “Are you sure you are the one who is supposed to say that?”

Clark didn’t answer but that didn’t mean he agreed with Bruce on this.

The other man probably sensed the way he was feeling. He watched the alien for few minutes in silence, thinking so much Clark could almost hear him. And Clark was considering their situation, too. If the situation was different, the reporter would be after hearing those words from Bruce trying his hardest to convince the Dark Knight that they could work on it, that they could put their relationship on a different level. He would explain Bruce how much he meant to him, how he dreamed about being with him in his wildest fantasies. And Bruce would be the one who would try to convince him this was a bad idea, that he could write down several pages of reasons why this was a bad idea, and every single one of them would be true.

But the situation was different, and Clark knew he couldn’t. He spoke the truth; Bruce deserved better. How could he even think about being with someone who, intentionally or not, assaulted him?

Clark’s own thinking was interrupted by Bruce when the man slowly moved towards him.

Clark just watched him as the other man slowly took place closer to him but still with enough distance between them. He was sweating and his heart paced like crazy. He was afraid but something told Clark that it wasn’t because he feared the alien would attack him, or at least not completely.

He didn’t speak right away, too nervous. After a while, Clark decided to do it for him. “You want to try it.”

It wasn’t a question.

“You don’t?” Bruce asked him, seemingly sounding neutral.

“I’m not sure.” Clark admitted.

Bruce nodded understandingly. Then, with determinant look in his eyes, he said: “If that night in the storehouse didn't happen, would you want to try it?”

“But it _did_   happen.”

“Just answer the question.”

Clark looked back down on the floor. “Yes… I would want to try it then.”

Bruce nodded at his answer and considered his next words very wisely. “If you truly don’t want to… if you allow this one incident to destroy what we could have… I can’t force you. But we can try… to make it work.”

“It’d be hard,” Clark informed him, fully aware of the slight manipulation from Bruce.

Almost unnoticeable smirk played at Bruce’s lips. “Never took you as one to back down from a challenge.”

Clark smirked too. Then, he stared at the floor.

After few minutes, he moved again, slowly to warn the billionaire about his intentions, and reached for Bruce’s hand. Only when the other man watched his movement, he touched the skin on Bruce’s fingers and wrapped his own around them.

Another small smile played at Bruce’s lips and Clark was greatly relieved the touch didn’t bring bad memories to Bruce, and even though the other man didn’t interlace their fingers together, he had accepted the touch and somehow, that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Sorry it took me so long (actually, I think the next chapter will take me even longer lol)! Anyway Bruce and Clark finally talk! Yay! I know it may seem strange that Bruce didn't have a panic attack during their conversation but it will be addressed a bit in the next chapter why he didn't have one... even though he was close to it. I hope you guys enjoyed it! The comments and kudos are appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we finally have Selina here and a bit of emotions! I hope you'll enjoy guys and please leave a comment!

Bruce was sitting in the Batcave, sipping coffee, when he heard the door leading to the manor being open. He didn't look up. It was already morning and because Bruce couldn't sleep anymore, he got out of bed, made himself a coffee, and went to Batcave to go through the newest case commissioner Gordon couldn't figure out.

"Hey, Bruce!" Tim greeted him with soft smile on his face. For the last three days, he'd been out of town on a mission with the Titans.

Bruce grunted neutrally and zoomed in on one of the photos taken at the crime scene. This one showed the bullet stuck in the wall which was covered in the security guard’s blood.

"You look much better," Tim mentioned when he got closed and finally got good look on his father.

Bruce only grunted again. It was true. Even though Bruce still had the nightmares (which was the reason he was currently here in Batcave), they were less frequent and violent so he didn’t wake up as often, and yesterday he even had had only two panic attacks.

And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling slightly better now that he and Clark were... something.

He wasn't even sure what it was since they hadn't meet in person after the charity ball. But they talked... sort of. They were sending texts to each other. Bruce had hoped Clark would remember more of the night but it looked like that stupid mind of his could focus only at his attack on Bruce. The billionaire had asked him, during one of their rare calls, to close his eyes, focus on Bruce's voice and then had tried to wake other of Clark’s memories. Needless to say it hadn't work - it had only woken the memories of Clark assaulting Bruce and both of them had had panic attacks, Bruce hyperventilating and Clark vomiting.

To be honest, Bruce had been very surprised he had managed to be with Clark in the same hotel room without a panic attack few nights back, even though he had been close to it at the time when Clark had moved too quickly without warning. He supposed the fact that Clark wasn’t wearing his Superman suit and was just a pretty regular reporter with glasses also helped.

"Bruce!"

The billionaire looked up, slightly confused. Tim was looking at him worriedly and his smile was gone, replaced by a frown between his eyebrows.

"Yes?" he asked as if he had paid attention the whole time.

Tim was still looking at him worriedly when he pointed out on the screen. "Dick's calling."

Bruce mimicked his frown and looked at the screen. There indeed was an incoming call from Dick.

"What?" Bruce asked after he pushed the receive button.

"Hey," Dick's voice sent Bruce into wary mode because there wasn't any cheerfulness in it, not even a hint. "I just took down one group of Joker's men."

"Where?"

"I found them in a storehouse in West Village," Dick said, and Bruce realized there was a sound of sirens in the background. "I tried to interrogate them but it kinda... how to put this... blew up... like literally. But hey, I've managed to get few files about delivering something into Star City, Central City and Washington DC. I'm pretty sure it was illegal because there are no records about what exactly it was."

Bruce frowned. "Superman mentioned Joker sending him there, too, but he doesn't remember much." There was a very short, tense silence after his words - his children didn't know about him contacting Clark, and perhaps that was for the best. He quickly continued before Dick could start giving him a lesson: "Get back in the cave and bring me the files. How's Damian and Cass?"

"Both are fine," Dick assured him. "We'll be back in few minutes."

Bruce didn't answer but ended the call and the Batcave fell into silence.

"I'm going to take a shower," Tim informed Bruce after few minutes, taking one of the cookies Alfred had left for Bruce here.

The billionaire made an acknowledging sound and then waited for Tim to leave the cave. The moment his son was gone, he reached for his personal phone. Without even realizing, he dialed in Clark's number, but he didn't press call button right away.

First of all, Clark's voice still made him feel uneasy sometimes, even after the night in the hotel. Plus, it was still very soon in the morning and Bruce didn't want to look needy or troublesome, let alone cause Clark another panic attack.

Finally, Bruce decided to text him first. 'Do you have time for one call?' he typed in and sent.

Nervously, he went back to the case he had been working on, but before he could find new clue, he already received an answer: 'Sure! :)'

When the billionaire saw it, he rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. Honestly, he never understood why Clark liked to use emoticons even when they didn't match his mood. Bruce was wondering who would be worse to text with - Clark or Barry because he was absolutely sure that Barry loved to use emoticons as well.

Bruce called him.

"Hey," Clark shockingly didn't sound sleepy when he picked up.

Good, Bruce wasn't feeling like suffocating, that was always a good sign. "Dick found something. Joker apparently sent something into the cities you've been in."

"Oh," Clark sounded somehow disappointed. "Do you know something more?"

Bruce suddenly felt very awkward. He suddenly realized that he indeed didn't know a lot of new information and him calling Clark didn't make any sense.

"Not really," Bruce admitted.

His hands started to sweat again but he wasn't scared. He felt like a teenager, standing in the gardens, confused to the core while the girl who had given him his first kiss, had simply smiled at him, and then walked away, leaving him there, and had never talked to him again.

"Do you want to talk?" Clark asked hopefully.

Yes. "… Maybe," the billionaire felt how his cheeks grew red.

Clark stayed silent for few long seconds and Bruce was wondering if the reporter was going to hung up. He didn't; instead he asked: "And how are batkids?"

Bruce wrinkled his nose. "Don't call them that."

To Bruce's annoyance, Clark even had the audacity to chuckle.

"They are okay," Bruce informed him in calm voice. "Tim just got home, and Dick and others are on their way back. If I was you, I’d be expecting a call from Kon any moment now."

Kon and Kara had both tried to reach out to Clark but the reporter had been ignoring them until Bruce talked some sense into him.

"Yes, that would be like him," at least the gleefulness had left Clark's voice now. "They call me every day now… and when I don’t pick up, they’re broking into my apartment. I wonder who teaches Kon those things."

"Are you implying my son is a bad influence?" Bruce asked, pretending to be offended.

“Nope, I’m just stating the facts.”

“Ha ha,” Bruce said sarcastically but there was a hint of amusement in his voice that made Clark chuckle again. Then Bruce continued in more serious manner. "It’s so terrible to live here with my kids at this point. Dick has even moved back to the manor. Temporarily, he says, allegedly so he has it closer to the Batcave but I think he just wants to check up on me."

Clark’s chuckle sounded different this time, forced. "And also to make sure I'm nowhere near you, right?"

Bruce frowned. "They understand it wasn't your fault, Clark. They're just overprotective of me and are behaving irrational... and irritating."

"Even Damian?" Clark sounded doubtful.

Bruce sighed and leaned back in his chair, forcing his body to relax. "Damian is... Damian. He's just stubborn."

"Like father, like son, right?" the Kryptonian said but he still sounded like a kicked puppy so Bruce decided to change his tactics.

"Listen, Clark, it's me who is..." his heart was beating like crazy again and he desperately considered the right words before finally deciding on: "with you." God, he felt like a sentimental fool. "Not them. You shouldn't be afraid of their opinions about you."

Clark sighed. Then, after a minute of silence, he admitted quietly: "I miss you."

The billionaire made a disgusted sound. "Ugh, I'm going to hung up," he threatened.

Clark finally chuckled again, this time it sounded real. "I love you."

"Clark…" Bruce warned the other man but a small smile was creeping on his lips. After few seconds, he added: “I miss you, too.”

That was the moment when the gate to the Batcave opened and Dick drove the Batmobile inside.

"I have to go, Clark," Bruce whispered. "Dick's back. I'll call you later."

"Okay."

The Batmobile parked at its spot. Bruce frowned at the power slide Dick made with the billionaire's beloved car for the sole purpose of showing off.

"Hey, Bruce!" Dick greeted with a grin on his face, looking very proud of himself, and completely ignored the annoyance of his father.

"Do you have the files?" Bruce asked while Cassandra and Damian got out of the car.

"I do," Dick handed them to Bruce. They were slightly burned but not enough to be unreadable.

Bruce murmured "Thanks" and took it to his table, sipping the coffee again.

Damian didn't say anything and headed upstairs - he was still angry at his father for defending Clark. Cassandra just smiled at him, and took one of Bruce's cookies.

"So," Dick said when Damian was gone. "You talked to Clark."

Bruce raised his eyebrows on him but didn't look up from the document he was reading. "You've waited three days to tell me this?"

The billionaire knew that Dick was intelligent and smart, and would notice that the article about the charity ball he had attended was written by Clark.

"Actually, yes," Dick nodded and then crossed his arms over his chest in defensive gesture. "I knew if I told you about it right away, you'd just tell me to mind my own business."

"It's what I'm telling you even right now," Bruce growled, making it clear he didn't want to talk about it.

Cassandra was looking between them and seemed to be far more relaxed than either of the men.

Dick looked like he was ready to pick up a fight with his father, but in the end he just sighed, uncrossed his arms and took down the cowl.

"I'm just worried about you, Bruce."

Bruce gulped, feeling uneasy and nervous. He hated these talks. What should he say? Should he say that he knows? Should he just dismiss it? Or maybe... "I and Clark are together," he heard himself say without him fully meaning to say it.

He could feel the tension growing in the moment Cassandra and Dick realized the meaning of those words after few seconds. Cassandra stopped chewing in the middle of her gobbet, and Dick's eyes widened in shock.

"Wait, what?" Dick asked, his voice so squeaky, Bruce would find it funny at any other occasion.

"I said that I and Clark got together," Bruce repeated, preparing for outburst of indignation and displeasure. What he got was something totally different. Yes, Dick looked to be offended by the idea but Cassandra smiled mischievously and hold out her hand.

Bruce watched their interaction with confusion until Dick rolled his eyes, reached into the       belt and took out twenty bucks. Then, something clicked inside Bruce's brain and he wasn't sure if he should be feeling relieved or insulted. He settled for the latter.

"You made a bet about me getting together with someone?" Bruce asked sounding offended.

"Not someone," Dick informed him with a sly grin playing on his lips which made Bruce want to send him back to Blüdhaven. "Clark."

Cassandra took the money and smiled playfully. Bruce decided that Dick had bad influence on her.

Bruce stared at both of them disapprovingly, thinking how the hell could they figure out he was in love with Clark when he was so sure he hid it well. Unfortunately, his look didn't seem to have the effect he had hoped for because Dick's grin only grew wider and his expression could be described as malicious.

Bruce continued with the glaring until suddenly Dick's expression grew a bit more serious. "I can't believe that after all this time, you got together now, when everything is so screwed up!"

Bruce wanted to send him upstairs and not very gently, but before he could Cassandra looked at Dick again and said: "Don't forget you also owe the money also to Steph and Barbara."

That was the last straw. Bruce's eyes widened so much Dick got scared for a second that they were going to pop out. The billionaire then gestured towards the exit to manor and shouted: "Out! Both of you!"

Cassandra at least made an attempt to look guilty as she walked towards the stairs but she simpered on her way, but Dick didn't even stop grinning.

After they were gone, Bruce collapsed into his chair, and hid his face in his palms. This was not something he had expected.

Needing to do something, he reached for the files, and started to read about the freight. Just when he had opened it and started reading, his phone rang.

The billionaire didn't bother with looking who was calling, just put the phone to his ear, and asked: "Yes?" in irritated tone. After all, it was five in the morning and as a billionaire who, in the eyes of public, spent nights drinking and sleeping around he could be grumpy at this hour.

"Hi, Brucie!"

The words made Bruce freeze. They got into Bruce's brain first, ahead of the voice who was saying them, and it took the man few long seconds before he shook the feeling of powerlessness and panic, and realized it was Selina's voice who spoke them and not Clark's or Joker's.

"Hi, Selina," Bruce greeted calmly when he was sure he had his voice under control. For a very, very short moment he considered asking her to stop calling him Brucie. But then he realized it would only lead to questions he was not ready to answer her - and he'd probably never be. No, he decided, he could endure, he always did.

"Listen," Selina started, pulling the man from his thoughts. "Remember how he arranged our next meeting at Thursday? Well, something came up and I don't think I'll make it that day."

Bruce froze again. After the events of charity ball, he completely forgot about their meeting. Now that he thought about it though, he knew he need a scene as soon as possible. He needed to be sure he still _could_ do it, that the night in the storehouse didn't leave him broken.

"Alright," Bruce's voice was neutral. "Would you mind meeting sooner?"

The Catwoman’s smile could be almost heard over the phone. "Well, well, someone's eager here, isn't he?"

Bruce grunted at the comment and then licked his lips nervously, but didn't let the sick feeling creep into his voice: "There will be a new rule, though, Selina."

"New rule?" Selina's tone sharpened and all playfulness disappeared. Bruce usually wasn't the one suggesting new things even though he did not oppose to them if Selina wanted to try.

"Yes," Bruce confirmed and with somehow heavy heart elaborated. "No kissing and no sex."

A short silence was the answer he got, the only things Bruce heard was the waterfall in Batcave and Selina's even breathing. That at least was a good sign, she was only processing and not disregarding Bruce's proposal.

Then, when she spoke, it wasn't a question. "You are dating someone."

Bruce knew there was no real point in lying. "Yes."

Another moment of silence. Then, Selina said: "Well, look at you. Our Mister Broody is taken. That's not something I got to see every day." her voice was all games and mischief again and she sounded genuinely pleased.

Bruce rolled his eyes and grumpily grunted.

Selina’s answer was sneering. "Come on! You're dating someone! You are supposed to be all happy and the definition of sunshine, Bruce!" Before Bruce could start to argue with her, she continued. "I have time today if you are interested, Brucie. But you need to cancel our reservation and make a new one somewhere."

Bruce unclenched his fists he had clenched at being called 'Brucie' again.

"I can do it," Bruce said more to himself than to Selina, he was not going to let what happened influence him like this. 

* * *

 

I can't do it, Bruce thought.

Selina was standing in front of him, in her Catwoman suit and he was kneeling on the hard floor, naked except for the cast on his arms and pants. His elbows were tied behind his back, he had a black ball-gag in his mouth, and his body was freezing.

She had called him Brucie again and then slapped him across the face, and the memory of Clark doing the same thing crawled up on him like a ghost. At first, Bruce's breathing started to get difficult. As he desperately tried to get his control back and start to breathe evenly, he saw spots in front of his eyes, and his vision started to flicker. He tried to breathe but he couldn't, he felt dizzy and he didn't have enough air. He needed the gag out of his mouth right now. His body jerked, and he fought against the restraints helplessly even though, if he'd just calm down, he could take them off easily. Distantly, Bruce realized, his hand let go of the small red ball he used like a sign to stop scene when he couldn't talk.

Suddenly, Selina was right in front of him, her expression full of worry. But she was too close and a whine escaped his lips. He fell on his back as he was trying to get away from her.

"It's okay, Bruce, I’m just gonna take it off," she told him soothingly as she came closer and unwrapped the ball-gag. Accidentally, she scratched him with the claws, and he jerked away even more violently, instinctively kicking her side. Thanks to his awkward, kneeling position and her reflexes, she dodged.

Bruce was desperately gasping for breath even with the gag off, trying to get as much air into his lungs as he could. His chest hurt so damn much.

"Bruce, focus on my voice," Selina told him but didn't touch him again, especially after Bruce crawled away from her, ignoring the pain in his broken wrist as he was struggling with the restraints. He could hear her voice but didn’t really see her through the dark fog in his mind. He felt as if he was and wasn’t there with her at the same time.

"Bruce," Selina repeated, her voice barely making it through the fog. "Concentrate on your breathing. Stay in present."

The billionaire had no idea how long he was laying on the ground, terrified he was going to suffocate but eventually, he managed to do what Selina told him to. He focused on his breathing and nothing more. He heard Selina telling him that he was doing great, that he was going to make it.

Finally, Bruce was calm enough to actually understand what Selina was saying: "I'm going to take off the restraints, okay?"

Bruce frowned. He didn't need her help. Even when his whole body was shaking, and he still felt hazily and weak, Bruce managed to get out of the restraints and threw them away. He realized for the first time how much his wrist really hurt.

"Bruce," Selina broke the silence, and when Bruce looked up and saw her compassionate expression, he felt sick at his stomach. He was pathetic, weak, and stupid.

Bruce didn't want her there. He wanted to be alone, in the coldness of his Batcave until the world would go away.

"We’re done tonight," he said in a tone that didn't leave any room for further discussion.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to discourage her because she frowned at him. "We need to discuss this, Bruce."

"No," the billionaire grunted and got up to his feet. His stupid body was still shaking but he wanted to run away from here as soon as possible.

"Bruce!" Selina's tone was serious and the man hated that. "You just had a panic attack. That doesn't happen for no reason. I did something that caused it and we are supposed to talk about it."

"That's not necessary," Bruce didn't look at her as he was getting dressed.

"Bruce! You can't just leave it like this, we must figure out what had happened. Why don't you talk to me?" She didn’t touch him, didn’t try to force him to stop dressing; she kept her distance. Bruce wished she would do it, though; it would’ve been easier.

"Because it doesn't matter!" the man snapped at her. "I know why it happened and it doesn't concern you."

A dangerous spark flashed Selina's eyes. "Excuse me? You had a panic attack while you had a scene with me! I would say that concerns me very, very much!"

But when he looked at her, there indeed was anger, but she was also looking at Bruce with concern, affection and worry on her face. He felt as if he was betraying her by not talking to her, like he was lying to her. He felt his stomach drop because of the guilt.

"Just go home, Selina," he told her, his voice soft. He put on the suit jacket, and walked to the door.

"Bruce, don't you dare leave lik-" the billionaire didn't wait for her to finish, and closed the door behind him, separating himself from her.

He knew she wasn't going to come out of the room with the Catwoman suit on and that gave him few minutes to get to his car and leave.

Bruce walked passed the elevator to the stairs because he didn't think he could be in such tight space even if he would stand there alone. He didn't want to stop moving, moving made him feel safe right now. He wasn't restrained and he wasn't held down, he told himself, he was safe.

Ironically enough, a part of him wanted to call Clark and hear his voice, but the bigger part of him, the rational one, knew that that would probably only cause him another panic attack at this moment.

Bruce didn't even get out of his building when he heard his phone vibrating in his pocket. He ignored it, politely said goodbye to the receptionist as he walked by, and exited the hotel, heading to the parking lot.

The hotel he and Selina had met in was very average, its parking lot included, and so Bruce's car seemed to be out of place even though this one was one of his cheaper.

He got inside, put the key in the ignition, and then stopped. He was considering what he should do. After few minutes, when his phone started to vibrate in his pocket again, he took it out and waited until Selina stopped. Then, he started to write a short text 'It's not you or your fault.' and sent it to her.

The billionaire received a text from her immediately. 'So you're gonna be like this yeah? that's ridiculous even for you honey'

Bruce didn't reply.

Just when he drove out of the parking lot, his phone started to ring again. He frowned, looked at the screen just to be sure that it was Selina again. He ignored her.

The calls didn't stop, not even when he got to his manor, and parked the car there.

He should turn off the phone, the billionaire realized but for some reason he didn't want to.

"Master Bruce," Alfred met him in the hallway. The moment the butler got a good look at Bruce, his expression shifted into a gloomy one. "Are you feeling well?"

Bruce was still shaking even after the ride, he was pretty sure his face was pale, and there was sweat running down his face.

Bruce grunted: "I'm fine," and headed to the library.

"Are you going down there, sir?"

"Yes."

"And would you like something to eat?"

Bruce was tensing up again. He was hungry, yes, and he was thirsty. But he didn't want to eat or drink anything. He just wanted to go down into his cave and be there alone until he would feel better.

"No," he said and just before he disappeared from Alfred's sight, he murmured. "But thanks, Alfred."

His butler gave him almost unnoticeable smile. Bruce closed the door and went to the right bookshelf. He climbed down the stairs and entered coldness of his Batcave that was both comforting and disturbing.

He sat down on his chair in front of the screens and closed his eyes, enjoying that he could finally let go and inhaled deeply.

His phone started to ring again and he growled unhappily. During short moment when his better judgement was clouded with annoyance and anger at himself, he grabbed the phone and answered. “I told you to let it go!”

“Finally,” Selina snapped, sounding equally angry. “Now, Bruce, would you mind telling me what the hell happened there?”

Bruce snorted. “And here I thought you were smart, Selina. Haven’t you realized after I left the room and got home?

Selina took in a sharp breath, clearly preparing to get into a fight with her friend, but then thought better of it, let the breath out and deeply inhaled to calm herself. “Bruce, of course I know what happened,” she said then in mild tone: “I am your friend. You can talk to me about it.”

Bruce gulped involuntary and that only made him more nervous. He rarely lost control over his body but in the last few days, it had been happening to him a lot.

“It’s nothing,” he lied.

Selina didn’t say anything for a minute but Bruce could hear her breathing. Then, finally, she spoke again: “You dropped the ball and you had a panic attack during the scene. That is something I don’t want you and me to experience ever again. I know something had happened to you, Bruce, I’m not stupid.” She put more meaning to these words as a hint for Bruce to stop treating her that way. “And I know it probably has something to do with the bruises on your body and your broken wrist. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’m gonna respect that. But you need to tell me what I’ve done that was triggering, so don’t do it again when we have a scene next time.”

Bruce himself wasn’t completely sure what it had been? That he was tied? Or the nickname he was hearing in his nightmares? Or the combination?

He sighed, hid face in his palm and leaned backwards in his chair. “I’m not sure.”

“Was it that I tied you? Or was it the dirty talk?”

Someone behind Bruce inhaled sharply in shock. The billionaire felt how his body tensed up, and he quickly turned around in chair.

Clark was standing next to Batmobile. There was enough space between them, and he wasn't wearing his Superman suit so Bruce didn't feel like panicking right away but he still felt like his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Clark's bright blue eyes were wide open with shock and his were cheeks red. There was no doubt that he had heard enough of Bruce's and Selina's conversation. When Bruce looked at him, he tried to smile but it was way too tense and the billionaire thought it probably didn't convince even Clark himself.

Bruce immediately ended the call, turned the phone off, and looked at the other man. Neither of them said a word for few minutes, they were just staring at each other, Bruce very much aware of the rapidly beating heart in his chest and the way Clark gulped nervously few times.

Finally, Bruce filled the silence: "Did something happen, Clark?" and felt relieved that at least his voice sounded calm. He knew that Clark wouldn't have come here without giving him a heads up and risk causing Bruce another panic attack if it wasn't something important.

It took Clark few agonizing seconds before he answered: "Yes, I... I... Luthor caused trouble and I-" there was a deep frown between Clark's eyebrows and he looked like a kicked puppy. “I tried to call you but you didn’t pick up so I came here and…” Clark took in a deep breath and looked on the ground, not able to look the other man in the eye. “Are you seeing Selina?”

“Clark-“ Bruce started but the Kryptonian started his babbling again.

“I mean it’s okay. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want and after what had happened I can’t really blame you and-”

“Clark!” Bruce said, louder this time but he didn’t yell, and, finally, Clark looked him in the eye. “I’m not with Selina. We had a thing going on but that was before we started… dating.” Bruce felt his ears heating up with embarrassment he felt upon using that word but he couldn’t find a better one. He realized he was still shaking but he wasn’t sure if it was the aftermath of the panic attack or because of the fear of what Clark was going to think about him after he’d tell him he needed to. “After we agreed on… dating-“ God, that sounded so damn weird coming from his lips. “-I told Selina that we couldn’t sleep together anymore.”

Some of the tension left Clark’s shoulders but there was still enough of it left. “So,” the Kryptonian licked his lips, his tone was still guilty but there was finally a spark of bitterness in his eye but it didn’t reach his voice: “Why did you meet with her tonight?”

It was almost sickening how careful Clark was with Bruce, and it made him feel even more guiltily. His heart was beating like crazy and there was new wave of sweat running down his forehead – and maybe Clark saw all of this, and that was the reason why he didn’t let his anger show. At any other time, Bruce would be probably furious at Clark for treating like a porcelain doll but right now he was too tired and too worried to care.

“We…” Bruce tried but the words died in his throat. He had no idea how to say this, so instead he asked: “Did you ever hear about BDSM?”

Clark was staring at him for a minute, half searching for a sign on Bruce’s face that would tell him the older man was joking. Then, his ears turned red and looked back at the floor. The tiny part of Bruce that wasn’t scared in the moment thought he was very cute like this.

“Yes,” Clark mumbled.  “I know what it is… so you… ummm…”

Bruce fought the need to gulp and instead said calmly: “I’ve been seeing Selina for this, yes. But after you and I started our… relationship, I told her nothing sexual would happen. And nothing happened.”

The billionaire was getting angry at himself because the more he talked the more he felt desperate to convince Clark he did not cheat on him. Even though he knew it would be much less trouble for both of them if they just break up, he didn’t want to. He knew the whole thing was fucked up at this point, but he had never been one to give up easily.

Fortunately for him, Clark looked relieved. But only for a moment, then he his expression shifted into a guilty one again. “You like it.” Again, it wasn’t a question but rather a statement; a rather neutral.

This time, Bruce really gulped. “I do.” He didn’t want to lose Clark just because he liked some kinky shit, it wasn’t worth it.

Clark nodded, and then, trying to keep the protectiveness out of his voice but failing miserably, he said: “You had a panic attack. I heard you. That was another reason I wanted to see you.”

Bruce didn’t want to discuss this with Clark, it wasn’t the right time. He needed to ask something else while he still had the guts to. “Does it bother you?”

Clark raised his eyebrows confusingly. “What? I would never be bothered by you having a pani-”

“No,” Bruce interrupted him, trying to sound impatient to cover his fear. “I meant the fact that I’m into that.”

The reporter continued looking confused for few seconds, then there was realization on his face, and his ears and cheeks turned red again. “Oh… That… No, it doesn’t bother me. I just… just want you to be happy.”

Bruce felt the heat invading his face. Seriously, how sickeningly _sweet_ could Clark be?

And then Clark continued but it was all babbling again: “And maybe… I mean if you want to… I could try it with you… not right now obviously but maybe… when we are both better. But I will totally understand if you want to only do it with Selina… and I don’t mind that.”

“Clark,” Bruce interrupted him. He was breathing heavily, his hands were sweating and his heart was pounding loudly in his chest but he wasn’t scared. He tried to change his affection into something else because Clark didn’t have even the slightest right to be this perfect but he just couldn’t. “That would be great.”

He rolled his eyes again when Clark smiled happily; it was probably the first real smile he had seen on his face in a while. Bruce almost forgot how beautiful Clark’s smile really was because his dreams were still invaded by that terrible grin.

Unfortunately, the smile didn’t last for long, and Clark’s face grow more serious again in few seconds. “You had another panic attack.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t have them twice a day, too!” Bruce growled because it was just easier to be angry than to show weakness. But this growl only made the billionaire even more angry because Clark looked hurt.

His anger never had much effect on the other man but he did seem to be torn right now between the hurt and something else. It took Bruce only a second to figure out what the other man wanted.

Before all of this, Clark was a very “handsy” guy; he used to throw his arm around Bruce’s shoulders, or just gently pushed him when Bruce said something snarky or sarcastic that made the alien laugh. Clark was a person who made a lot of physical contact. And even though the thought of someone else touching him scared the shit out of Bruce, he craved it and he wanted it… he wanted Clark to touch him. He blamed Selina for it – she had been the one who showed him the magic of aftercare.

While the billionaire considered the cons and pros of a simple touch, his body made a first step towards Clark. There was enough space between them for both of them to notice and process the movement and mentally prepare.

“I want to touch you,” Bruce said halfway across, feeling stupid for saying those words, but it was needed to be said.

“Okay,” Clark said, looking nervous but accepted it.

Bruce’s pace didn’t quicken. He kept making small, sure steps, until he was standing right in front of Clark. Maybe it was that Clark wasn’t wearing his Superman suit – or maybe he was but it was hidden under the layer of Clark’s normal clothes – or the fact that Clark’s expression equaled expression of sad puppy but Bruce’s body didn’t react the way he feared it would. And for the first time the billionaire realized that even though he _was_ scared in that moment, he wasn’t scared of Clark. He was scared of the fear itself, that he was going to have another panic attack.

And Clark just stood there, giving him the space and the time he needed, patient as always, until Bruce would make his decision. Finally, Bruce stepped even closer, slowly entering Clark’s personal bubble. The Kryptonian inhaled sharply but didn’t panic.

As Bruce was listening the other man breathe, he touched his arm. It was awkward, strange and it made the billionaire feel like an idiot but when he looked up to see Clark’s face, there was a soft smile playing at his lips, a little awkward too.

Bruce then felt Clark’s muscles in the arm flexing and moving, and he wrapped his fingers around Bruce’s elbow gently, too scared to touch him some more. Bruce felt his lips tugging upwards, mimicking Clark’s smile, and slowly he leaned closer. Even if awkward, their touches were light and gentle and almost fluid, and it reminded Bruce of dance more than anything else. And Clark was so warm under the layers of his suit, the billionaire realized only in that moment how cold he felt.

Hesitantly, he leaned closer because the heat was so irresistible, he feared and wanted to be lost within it. Their chests collided and Bruce let his chin rest on Clark’s shoulder. The other man was tense under his touch but only for a moment, then, with the same hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Bruce’s waist.

The billionaire finally closed his eyes and enjoyed the heat the other man provided him with. He heard a tired sigh escaping his lips but he didn’t care in that moment. Instead he buried his cold nose in the crook of Clark’s neck, and the other man chuckled. Clark was warm and comfortable; he was nothing like that cold creature in storehouse the other night.

Finally, Clark gave into the touch and he tightened his arms around Bruce, pulling him as close as he could and buried his nose in Bruce’s hair, inhaling the smell of the other man.

Bruce thought that this was probably not the best idea since any second any of his children could come down here and see their father being embraced by the alien who had attacked him but he wasn’t willing (or ready) to leave the comfort of Clark’s strong arms around him.

He had no idea how long they stood there, hugging and enjoying the fact that they even _could_ hug but eventually, Bruce felt like this wasn’t enough. He knew Clark felt the same way wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t do the first step so the billionaire pulled away a little ran his hands over Clark’s fine, strong arms and shoulders up to his neck and took the alien’s head in his hands. He didn’t lean for a kiss, though. He just looked Clark in the eyes that were still avoiding his but the Kryptonian watched his mouth with intensity that gave him away.

Bruce considered that he should probably not push his luck but he needed to be closer to the other man.

And finally, Clark got it into his thick skull and leaned closer and their lips met. It was probably the most awkward kiss Bruce had ever experienced but it was also the sweetest one. Clark was hesitant, tender, and didn’t rush. The billionaire opened his mouth slightly, to let the reporter know he was ready to deepen the kiss, and Clark accepted the invitation.

A soft groan escaped the reporter as he pulled Bruce almost painfully close as he pushed his tongue inside the billionaire’s mouth and gently started to explore.

It brought even more warmth into Bruce’s body and he moaned in pleasure, not wanting the other man to stop. And Clark didn’t. The kiss slowly, almost unnoticeably turned from awkward to tender and then to heated but still gentle.

Clark’s hands slowly started to run over Bruce’s back, caressing him and stroking. Bruce himself was groaning into the kiss and played with Clark’s hair between his fingers, and thought to himself that today was a good day after all.

And then Clark’s hand wandered lower to his waist, under Bruce’s shirt and touched the vulnerable skin on his side and stomach. Clark perhaps didn’t even realize he had done it. The sudden touch even if only the tips of Clark’s fingers felt to Bruce like being struck by lightning – intense, cold lightning and the images flashed through Bruce’s mind too quickly and too incoherent for him to even realize they weren’t real.

In the back of his mind that always he knew he was still standing in the Batcave with Clark but the rest of it took him to the storehouse and he was laying on his back, pinned against the ground with a heavy body, and cold hands were exploring his stomach. High-pitched sound similar to a cry escaped Bruce’s mouth as he violently jerked away from the hug. Clark didn’t pursue him and instead stepped back, his eyes widen with shock and fear of his own at what he had done. That only made Bruce panicking even more. This was not supposed to happen.

He felt now familiar pain in his chest and he couldn’t breathe right. He was gasping like a fish out of water, trying to get gold of his mind and bury the memories that attacked it deep, somewhere where he would never find them.

 Distantly, he heard Clark saying his name and asking something but Bruce wasn’t in the right state to pay full attention. He desperately tried to remember at least one of his breathing exercises but his mind couldn’t get him there, instead still focusing on the night in storehouse. It took him several minutes, during which he felt like he was going to die from the lack of oxygen. Then he finally overcame the imaginary blockade in his mind that kept him from remembering and started the breathing exercise.

When he came back to himself, he was shaking all over again, the warmth completely gone, leaving him in cold. He needed to sit down before his legs would give out.

“I’m so sorry,” he heard Clark saying. He looked up and found Clark farther away than he was after Bruce had shoved him away.

“It’s not your fault,” Bruce whispered, his voice strange. He turned on his heel, and walked back to his desk and sat down, saving his wobbly legs from the weight of his body.

“Should I go get Alfred?” Clark asked, sounding desperate to do something, to help somehow.

Bruce shook his head. “No. There are kids there and-“ the billionaire realized what he was saying only in the middle of the sentence when it was already too late. He looked at Clark again and the powerlessness on his expression now mixed also with guilt.

A tired sigh escaped Bruce’s lips and he let himself to be weak, only for a moment and only in front of Clark, and hid his face in his palms. “Clark, they like you… or at least most of them do,” he added when he remembered Damian and Jason. “They are just acting… unreasonably right now.”

Clark didn’t seem to be convinced but he didn’t argue with him.

Bruce desperately needed to talk about something, anything, so he wouldn’t have to focus on the coldness or the tiredness that was spreading in his limbs.

“Why did you come here?” Bruce asked.

Clark’s face lit up with understanding. “Oh, right. I came here to tell you that Luthor caused some troubles and I had to go to one of his secret labs in the city and I found out that he had a supply of the Joker venom. I took it away but I’m not sure what is the safest way to get rid of it. Also, I thought maybe it was Lex who gave Joker the kryptonite he used when he… poisoned me.”

The Kryptonian clenched his fists.

Bruce wasn’t sure what to say, how to comfort Clark, so instead he asked, his eyes narrowed: “So, you believe that Joker and Luthor are in an alliance?”

“Maybe,” Clark nodded. “I would try to confront Luthor about this but he has a good reputation and great support from public right now.”

Bruce grumbled broodingly. “I will tell Dick about this. I’m sure he and others will be able to get into Luthor’s labs or mansion. The preparation for the mission will take some time, though.”

“Good,” Clark said, then he awkwardly pointed at the exit from the Batcave. “You know I should probably go, now…”

Bruce wanted and knew he _should_ tell him to do so. His body was still shaking and he caught himself instinctively watching all of Clark’s movement in expectation of an attack – needless to say that Clark was very obviously aware of all of Bruce’s fear and every time he moved he did so with precision and slowly. The billionaire opened his mouth to tell him to go but what came out was: “You can stay.”

Clark gave him small, sad smile, and looked at the ground. “Only if you want me to.”

And Bruce wanted. He wanted him so desperately to be here right now, he felt like only Clark’s presence would be keep him here, in the safeness of his Batcave, away from that dark place his traitorous mind often took him to.

“I do,” he said.

Clark’s sad smile brightened slightly. Then, because Clark was Clark and needed to fill the silence, he asked: “How are you sleeping these days?”

Bruce raised one of his eyebrows. “How do you think?” he growled before he managed to stop himself. The answer was instinctive and had a defensive bite to it.

Hurt flashed over Clark’s face even though the other man knew very well Bruce didn’t mean it.

The billionaire closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Sorry,” he murmured so quietly anyone other than Clark wouldn’t hear him. “I’m just a bit tired.”

“Would me stopping to text you in the evening help?”

Bruce shook his head. “Don’t think so.” He didn’t tell him that falling asleep while waiting for Clark’s answer or himself writing text actually helped a lot even though it didn’t stop the nightmares.

“How’s work?” the billionaire asked.

Clark shrugged. “Still the same except Perry actually said the other day that he appreciated me going to work often now and not disappearing without telling him. I will have to thank the villains for having a break so I can actually do my job properly now.”

Bruce snorted. “I’m sure they are doing it out of the love for you.”

The Kryptonian beamed. “Well, I _am_ charming.”

“Keep dreaming, boy scout.”

Their conversation continued slowly but with surprising ease. They kept the distance between them and talked for what felt like hours to the point where Bruce managed to calm himself and get his heartbeat to normal pace. At some point he even felt himself dozing off, around the same when Clark actually sat on his Batmobile. He didn’t have the will or the energy to scold him for that.

Their little talk was, unfortunately, interrupted around three in the morning, when Clark heard the door of the manor opening, and they had to say their goodbyes.

The Kryptonian flied away just before Jason abruptly stormed into the cave, still in his gear except for the helmet, as if he owned the place and looked around, looking for an intruder.

Bruce just frowned at him, considering whether Dick or Cass told him about him and Clark. He didn’t think so but that didn’t change the fact that Jason was smart and had the potential to figure out his feelings for Clark on his own. He asked: “Did something happen, Jason?”

Jason looked at him with annoyance. “No.”

Then he headed back to the door to the manor but shortly before it opened, Jason came to the halt and turned around on his heel. He had suspicious look in his eyes. “You are not meeting with that alien, are you?”

Bruce raised one of his eyebrows. “Why do you care?”

Jason’s cheeks turned slightly red. “Because he’s dangerous!”

“Yes, especially when he saves kittens from the trees.”

The young man glared, annoyed at his dry comment.

When Jason didn’t stop glaring, billionaire frowned. “It’s not up to you with whom I meet, Jason. I thought you admired Superman.”

Jason’s cheeks actually reddened and Bruce fought the urge to stretch his lips into a smile. “That was when I was young! He should stay away! I know where you keep your Kryptonite!”

Bruce felt his body raise up to the challenge and even though he was hit with a wave of tiredness, he forced his body to look intimidating, and demanded: “Who told you?”

Jason took a small step back before he put himself together and try to imitate the billionaire’s intimidating body language. “Why does it ma-“

He was interrupted with low and dangerous growl. “Who?”

Jason hold his ground for a minute, but then he lowered his gaze, rolled his eyes and murmured. “Damian.”

“I’m going to have a word with him,” Bruce informed him. His son opened his mouth to argue with him but closed it again under the billionaire’s dark scowl.

They just stood there for a short moment, then Jason shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I… I want to stay here for few days.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows, surprised but not displeased. “Dick told me that you said you were going to leave Gotham again with Roy.”

“I put it off!” Jason snapped but there was no real bite to it and Bruce wanted to smile again. “Anyway, can I stay here for a while or not?”

Bruce felt his features go soft but he looked elsewhere so Jason wouldn’t notice; he knew Jason and if he noticed the expression on the billionaire’s face, he would probably call all of this off.

“Of course,” Bruce said. “Did you tell Alfred?”

Jason gave him a strange look. “No. He’s already asleep. Why the fuck are you here at this hour, by the way?”

Bruce lied smoothly: “I fell asleep working on a case.”

Jason narrowed his eyes suspiciously before he said: “Sure,” and then walked back to the door leading to the manor. He stopped at the door but he didn’t turn around. “Why did you just forgive him?”

“I’ve already told you it’s not really his fault. He’d never hurt me intentionally.”

Jason stood there for a while, then his legs moved and he walked towards the exit. His shoulders seemed to stoop slightly and Bruce fought off the grin that was creeping on his lips. He knew that Jason now after he had let out most of his anger finally moved to the point where he as considering Bruce’s point of view.

He left the cave without another word.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking so long but I've been feeling a bit down and then I was busy with work and school. Anyway, any comments are very appreciated and I hope you enjoy, guys!

Bruce never understood how someone who had a secret identity for so many years could be so bad at keeping a secret.

It was a week after the incident in the Batcave during which Dick and Cass had found out about his now-not-so-secret relationship with Clark, and Bruce thought that what kept Jason and Damian from finding out was the denial more than anything else; they were both smart kids and if they wanted to, they would have this figured out in no time at all but they probably didn’t even consider an option like this.

After this week, Bruce was sure everyone except for Jason and Damian knew about his dirty little secret. When Steph had come by, she had been watching him and occasionally giggling with Tim like a pair of teenagers who didn't have anything better to do. Plus, Bruce had caught them when Dick was giving Steph money with sour expression, probably for the bet they had taken.

The billionaire had scowled at them disapprovingly but he must have been losing his sharpness because the they just exchanged looks, giggled and disappeared into Dick's room. Or maybe it had been just that Bruce couldn't look quite dangerously when he had still the cast on his wrist, his hair was all messy and he had been still wearing his fluffy robe but that had been just because it had been the first time in weeks that he actually managed to sleep all night and hadn’t been woken up by a nightmare. Nobody could blame him for that no matter how hard Jason had laughed at his pathetic state.

The probably most awkward moment had been when Tim had pulled him aside, his face white as a sheet, and demanded to know if it was true what Dick was saying.

Bruce had said that yes, he was dating Clark, and that Tim didn't need to worry about Bruce's personal life. Tim had seemed to be very offended by it and informed him that he hadn't been worried about his personal life but about his own since this probably meant he was dating his step-brother. Bruce had almost chocked on the water he had been drinking but before he had had the chance to ask Tim to be more specific, the young genius disappeared into his room.

Bruce and Clark hadn't had the opportunity to meet during this week but they were calling each other almost every single night before they had fallen asleep (and once when Clark had asked him how the hell Kon knew about their relationship). The nightmares lessened again but was still waking up in the middle of the night gasping for breath and feeling a heavy body above his. What was confusing though was the fact that his first reaction after waking up had always to call Clark, to hear his voice, and he had caught himself several times already reaching for the phone. He had never called him though. He knew he was being irrational, but he still felt like he was being weak when he needed to ask for something like comfort. Plus, he knew that Clark was going through something similar, and he’d never bothered Bruce so how could the billionaire bother him?

But the fact was that Bruce was growing impatient. He wanted to meet Clark again and he needed a distraction. He had been restless for the last few days from the lack of action and he craved getting the Batsuit on. Seriously, how long would it take for a stupid wrist to heal?

As Bruce thought about good excuses to meet Clark, Alfred came back to the table. He had left few minutes ago when they had heard the telephone ringing.

Stephanie swallowed her bite and asked: "Who was it?"

Alfred sat down on his chair again and took his knife and fork to continue eating before he answered. "That had been Miss Kyle."

Bruce did his best not to choke on his bite. He looked at Alfred, not too quickly so there wouldn't be any suspicion that he had been shocked and asked: "What did she want?"

"She seemed to worry about your health and asked whether you are alright," Alfred told him unfussily.

Bruce noticed how everyone around the table suddenly focused anxiously on him even though they pretended to be too busy with their meals. "What did you tell her?" he asked calmly, pretending not to be concerned.

"I told her she could make sure herself and if she felt like it, she could pay us a visit tonight."

Bruce dropped the fork and took in a deep breath. God, he was not ready to see Selina and he definitely didn't want to meet with her in the house full of kids. What would he even say to her about her panic attack?

As he was thinking, he felt familiar dizziness, tightness in his chest and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. He felt himself swallow, and he slowly put down the fork and the knife, and tried to stop his hands from shaking at least until he would get out of the dining room.

"Excuse me," he forced himself to say as he rose to his feet. He thought he saw Alfred saying something but he ignored it. He needed to get away from the room because none of them needed to see this.

During the last week, Bruce had learned how to recognize a panic attack and what helped to calm him. The panic attacks also weren't as strong as they used to be with only few exceptions.

He felt his legs move on his own and he tried to focus on his breathing. Distantly, the billionaire realized that he was just wandering through the manor aimlessly so he forced his legs to head to the stairs. Even though he knew that would only make him more tired after the panic attack would be over, he wanted to get to his room.

He climbed the stairs slowly, the pounding of his heart too loud in his ears, and finally opened the door to his room. Slowly, with precise movement, he closed the door.

Once there was a door and half of the manor between him and the others, Bruce allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. These days, sometimes, when the billionaire closed his eyes, it gave him the peace he needed to make it through the panic attack. Other times, it just made everything worse and he just heard the insane laughter. Tonight, it was the latter.

He felt himself gasping for breath and he quickly opened his eyes again. The billionaire then moved to the bed, unbuttoning the upper buttons of his shirt on his way there with shaking fingers.

Bruce allowed himself to fall on his back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, remembering one of the breathing exercises that helped him during panic attacks, and started to focus on breathing.

He was very grateful that nobody came upstairs, knocking on his door demanding to know what was happening. They all probably knew what was happening anyway and Bruce felt another wave of anxiety and shame over him, threatening to suffocate him.

It completely threw him off, and he lost the focus on his breathing exercise. He just thought ‘fuck it all,’ then reached into his pocket. He quickly dialed in the Clark's number and put the phone to his ear, getting more and more desperate with every second. It felt like an eternity during which the cold voice inside Bruce's head called him pathetic for having to rely on another person to calm him; called him weak and fragile; told him that he would never be the same as he was before the attack and that he should give up on trying to find the normalcy already.

"Bruce?" finally, Clark spoke in soft voice. "What's going on? Are you getting to bed already?"

The voice shouldn't be soothing, and it wasn’t at several occasions, yet it helped Bruce more than any of the previous breathing exercises.

The billionaire was finally able to breathe to some excent but his head was still dizzy, his heart was still THUMPING and his chest still hurt with every inhale. His mouth was dry but he knew he needed to say something. He simply said: "No." because he wasn't sure he was able to say anything else.

There was a very short moment of silence during which Clark didn't say anything and the cold voice from the back of Bruce's head let himself to be known again, creeping on him, but before it could truly catch the billionaire in its trap, Clark deeply inhaled, and asked as if he didn't know Bruce had a panic attack: "Have you eaten the dinner already?"

"Yes," Bruce answered. He didn't think he could eat anything else tonight, though, even if he wanted.

"That's good then!" Bruce recognize that there was a false joy and excitement in Clark's voice but he didn't call him out on it because he knew that the alien was just trying to give Bruce the normalcy and distraction he needed.

Then, the alien started to talk about how he was cooking dinner for himself, and then how he had spent his day and how the work was going.

Bruce found himself very slowly relaxing into Clark's talking, his breathing evened, his heartbeat slowed and the pain in his chest faded away slowly. He was still trembling and there was cold sweat on his forehead.

Just when Clark was talking about the report he was working on for Perry, Bruce, ignoring how he felt like a sentimental idiot, interrupted him with: "Thanks, Clark."

It was just a soft, silent whisper but Clark stopped taking immediately and even though Bruce couldn't see his face, he knew that the brightest and kindest smile spread across Clark's soft, perfect lips.

"You know, you can call me anytime, right?" the alien asked.

Before the feeling of shame and powerlessness could really settle in his guts, Bruce pushed it away. He knew he didn't need to be shy or worried around Clark. He said, a bit grumpily: "And you know the same goes for you, too, right?"

There was another pause and Bruce regretted his words immediately because he knew Clark would probably have the same feelings as he did, and that he ruined the rare moment when Clark was feeling happy which didn't happen often these days, no matter how hard the alien was trying to convince Bruce otherwise.

"I didn't want to bother you," Clark murmured, his voice honest with a bit of guilt.

"It wouldn't bother me, Clark," Bruce assured him, his voice growing soft again.

"Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," Bruce said again. "Just... I'm here."

Gosh, he thought, I'm turning into a sap.

Then, a quick idea formed in his mind and before he could truly think it over, the billionaire asked: "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

He knew Clark frowned. "I was thinking about going to Smallville. Why?"

"Nothing," Bruce made sure he didn't sound disappointed. "It's just I'm attending a gala in Metropolis tomorrow night. I thought I could sneak out early and visit you."

"You want a sleepover?" Clark asked, surprised.

It wouldn’t be the first time they would do something like that but it would be the first time since the night of the assault.

"I wanna try it," Bruce said as if it wasn't a big deal to him. He had never said it (he in fact implied it was annoying and he had to put up with it) but he truly enjoyed the times when they had been staying at Clark's apartment. Not that Bruce would complain about living in a big-ass mansion but Clark's apartment was cozy, comfortable and familiar to him.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Clark didn't sound very convinced.

"I wanna try it," Bruce repeated. "If something happens, I can always take a cab or call Alfred to pick me up."

Another pause. "Okay, Bruce. I'll just... tidy up a little."

Bruce snorted. "Don't pretend you are not a clean-reak. I know there is not a single stain of dirt in your apartment."

The alien snorted as well. "No comment."

Bruce wanted to talk to him some more but the door opened suddenly. The billionaire didn't need to be a genius to know which person was the only one who would just storm into his room without knocking.

His look met very beautifully looking Selina. She was wearing a red dress, high heels and a very pissed-off expression on her face. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows.

"I'll call you later about details," Bruce quickly said and hung up before Clark could ask if that really was Selina. Then, the billionaire turned to Selina. "What do you want?"

"Should I lock the door?" she asked in bitter tone. "So you won't run away again?"

Bruce raised his eyebrows and pointed behind himself. "I can always jump from the balcony."

Selina's lips shaped into a thin line. She didn't find it one-bit amusing. "I'm not in the mood for jokes, Brucie!" Bruce winced at the nickname but Selina was too angry to notice. "I'm in the mood for some answers. Now, will you finally tell me what happened in there?"

"No."

If looks could kill, Bruce would die right on the spot.

"Oh, Bruce, come on!" Selina threw her arms desperately into the air. "I thought we're past this! You want me to beg, fine! Bruce, please, I'm begging you, tell me what's wrong!"

Bruce felt the tightness in his chest again but this time he was almost sure he wouldn't have another panic attack. He just sighed and said, his voice deadly serious: "When I told you this wasn't your fault, I wasn't lying."

"Bullshit, Bruce," Selina interupted him but when the man scowled at her, she swallowed the next words she wanted to say and gestured for him to continue.

"Remember around two weeks ago, how you were in the Batcave with me and I needed to go to take care of some emergency?"

Selina's anger quickly changed into curiousness and caution. "Yeah, I remember."

Bruce felt the heat in his face. He felt ashamed and humiliated but he knew that unless he said this to Selina, she'd secretly blame herself for what had happened in the hotel room.

He spoke in calm voice, softly and quietly, as if there was someone behind the door and Bruce didn't want them to overhear their conversation.

And Selina listened carefully, taking in every single word without interrupting him anymore. Bruce watched her face grow more and more disturbed and pale with each of his words. He didn't go into details because he knew that wasn't necessary but he did mention the nickname 'Brucie' and once he did, the spark of understanding shined in Selina's eyes.

Thank goodness, though, she didn't look at him with pity. She looked disturbed and maybe there was a hint of compassion but that was all.

"Jeez, Bruce!" she sat on the chair near the fireplace and looked at him, frowning. Then, to the billionaire's surprise, she started to scold him: "Why the hell did you even think going to see me for a scene was a good idea so shortly after this?"

Bruce frowned at her but didn't say anything.

Selina continued to look at him disapprovingly, then there was the expression of realization as something clicked into its right place in her mind and she sighed. "Oh, Bruce, if only you told me about this before. We could've taken the things slowly and I'd be more careful."

Bruce immediately felt irritation. He growled: "I don't need to be coddled or pampered."

"This is not about coddling or pampering," Selina retorted, not backing down. "I know you're telling yourself it's all the same and that you want it to be the same as before but that's not how it works. I'm not some kind of shrink and I know you've been through shit that seems worse than this assault but this is your mind and body saying it’s enough. You just reached the point where you're not able to take it anymore, whether you like it or not. Even I know you need time to heal at this point and the things won't return to the way they were over just one night. You gotta take it slow."

Bruce just growled at her. Honestly, the most annoying thing about Selina right now was that she was right and somehow, Bruce knew it all along, he just didn't want to acknowledge the truth but now that Selina literally threw it into his face, he couldn't ignore it anymore. He sighed again and let himself be a bit weak because honestly Selina had seen him in far worst conditions than right now, and lay on his back on the bed.

The silence hung between them for the few following seconds but it wasn't tense, both of them were just thinking. He heard Selina move towards him, making small, loud steps to make sure he knew she was coming. On one hand, he was glad she was so thoughtful, on the other, he felt as if she was treating him like a doll, easy to break.

"I'm seeing someone," he told her almost as a warning when he felt the bed shifting under Selina’s weight.

She grinned. "I know, Bruce, you already said so the other day. So, who is the lucky girl who I can't compare to?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, closed them and before he could stop himself, he said with a smile playing at his lips: "It's not a girl, Selina."

Selina's eyes sparkled with interest and joy. "Oh, no! Does this mean I had the gay friend all along and I didn't even know it?!"

The billionaire opened eyes again and scowled at her. "You of all people should know I'm not gay."

"Oh, I know," Selina winked at him mischievously. "But we could still go to shopping together! Wouldn't that be great?" She nudged him into his ribs.

"You do realize you are just trying to put me into a stereotype of a group neither of us even belong to, right?"

Selina rolled her eyes. "You can really be a bore sometimes, you know?"

"You tell me this often, so it’s hard not to know."

For a minute, neither of them said a word, both of them smiling fondly at each other. Finally, Bruce broke the silence: "I'm gonna be at his place tomorrow."

Selina frowned at him, the disapproval on her expression again. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"We've been friends for a pretty long time and he knows about the situation."

Bruce didn't feel the need to elaborate. Contrary to popular belief, Selina was a very smart and intelligent woman. She knew what he was talking about. She seemed to think about his words for a minute. He wasn't sure if she figured out who he was talking about; if she did, she didn't show it in any way. After few moments, she just told him: "Just be careful, okay? As I said, best to take things slow and no rush."

Bruce frowned, said: "I can take care of myself," to which Selina just laughed loudly.

* * *

They ended up talking for a very long time and in the end, both of them spread across the bed like a pair of teenagers. Bruce didn't know when exactly he fell asleep but when he woke up from a nightmare early in the morning, Selina was gone.

He spent the following day at Wayne Enterprises building. He found out going out helped him to keep calm. At the afternoon, he informed the kids and Alfred that he was going to Metropolis for the gala. Alfred asked him if he wanted him as the driver, which Bruce declined, informing him that he was going to spent the night there. To his horror and distaste, Dick and Tim exchanged looks and grinned while Jason and Damian narrowed their eyes at Bruce as if they were trying to figure out what his deal was and were getting ready to stop him from going anywhere. The billionaire ignored all of them, told them to listen to Alfred when he was gone and Dick, and headed upstairs to prepare the important stuff to take to Clark's apartment. He didn't take a lot of things, only clothes, toothbrush and some creams (he made sure to hide them well because Clark teased him about the way he anxiously took care of his skin and wanted to have the best creams he could have). He considered taking also lube but he could hear voice in his head that this wasn't a good idea so he put it back into his bedside table. The voice sounded dangerously like Selina.

He texted Clark few times, assuring him that he indeed was coming today to his place. The gala was taking forever but Bruce knew he couldn't disappear less than twenty minutes into it without it to be offensive or suspicious. So, he just went there, looked pretty and drunk, and when the time came, he disappeared and took a cab to Clark's apartment building.

When he exited the elevator, the door to Clark's apartment was already open, and Bruce ignored the warm feeling that was spreading in his stomach at the thought that Clark had to be waiting for him.

"Hi!" Clark gave him small, nervous smile when Bruce walked through the door and closed it. The alien was standing in the kitchen corner, wearing his usual jeans and shirt that fitted closely to his muscular chest and shoulders.

Bruce suddenly felt the need to loosen his tie.

"Um, so, I kinda forgot to ask what you'd want for dinner but I ordered Chinese, if that's alright with you," Clark mumbled and the billionaire looked at the floor, a small smile spreading across his lips. How could the alien be so hot and cute at the same time?

"I don't mind," Bruce assured him and put his briefcase next to the kitchen counter. He took off the jacket, threw it over one of the chairs like he did many times before, finally took off the damn tie, and leaned against the kitchen corner, absolutely enjoying the show in the form of a very nervous Clark Kent who looked like he was in this kitchen for the first time. Bruce honestly never understood why Clark needed to put the delivered dishes on plates instead of eating it right from the boxes, and usually, Bruce would fight how that this was just meaningless and that Clark was just going to have to wash the dishes but today the billionaire just watched the other man with amusement.

He was surprised at how nervous Clark was and how relaxed the billionaire was feeling himself considering this was their first official date.

Bruce felt the corners of his mouth twitching up at the thought and he asked: "Do you need some help?"

"No, you just-" Clark blushed like a girl in front of her crush, and when he noticed Bruce's teasing smirk, he blushed even more. "Just, please, sit and pick one of the movies on the coffee table."

Bruce didn't argue and went deeper into Clark's apartment, into the cozy and simple living room. On the coffee table, there was around dozen DVD with various movies from the time of the 70s to today. Bruce frowned and realized all of them were the ones he had never seen. He still remembered that when Clark found out about he didn’t see these, he seemed to be offended at personal level.

He smirked, took one particular DVD and turned around to look at Clark. "Are you kidding me?" he asked, making Clark jump a bit as he looked up. "The Alien?"

The other man returned the smirk. "What? You gotta respect the classic."

Bruce chuckled softly, feeling the warmth in his stomach again and he shivered in pleasure a bit at the sound of Clark’s Kansas drawl, then said: "I don't know what's worse. Watching this movie with an actual alien or that a boy scout like you likes such a movie."

"And I honestly have no idea how you managed to convince your kids not to watch these movies with you."

The billionaire just shook his head instead of telling him that he in fact made records of every movie he hadn't seen and which he had also mentioned to the Clark, hoping the alien would remember and would once asked him to watch them with him.

As much as the idea of watching a horror movie with Clark was appealing because he couldn't imagine Clark getting scared, he put the movie back down. He wasn't sure watching a horror movie right now would be such a great idea right now. He took the DVD with Monty Python and the Holy Grail and put it into the player.

The billionaire sat down on the couch that was a bit more uncomfortable than he was used to but it felt familiar under his touch and Bruce could inhale the nice, sweet smell of Clark’s home.

He waited only few minutes for Clark and then took the plate with his meal the other man was handing him. He frowned when he noticed Clark also put down a plate of his favorite cookies with cherries and white chocolate on the coffee table. The billionaire didn't remember telling him about his sweet tooth and he wanted to know how Clark had found out. Given to the mischievous smile the alien gave him, he knew exactly what Bruce was thinking and he wasn't going to make things easier for him.

"They're from ma," Clark informed him.

"And who told her that they're my favorite, huh?" the billionaire asked but there was no real bite to it.

He took the sticks Clark was handing him, murmuring: "Thanks." before he tasted the spring roll, curious about which filling Clark had chosen for him. It wasn't that big of a surprise that if the alien knew one of Bruce's favorite cuisines and he also chose his favorite filling. He heard himself hum in appreciation. He hadn't had the time to eat much today.

"Happy?" Clark asked, his voice full of kindness.

"Justice's never happy," Bruce said because, to the hell with it, he was feeling truly comfortable and safe for the first time in weeks.

Clark burst out laughing and started to eat his own meal.

They spent the first few minutes in silence as they ate in peace except for the occasional laugh when there was a funny scene in the movie. When they finished, Clark brought Bruce a glass of water on the billionaire’s request – Clark sometimes was like a mother hen and needed to take care of someone.

Bruce wasn't able to fully pay attention to the movie now that Clark was right next to him and he didn't have the meal to be occupied with... but he didn’t think that was a bad thing.

"So, how was your day?" Bruce asked and, after a short considering, he took off his shoes and lazily put his legs on the couch but carefully, so he wouldn’t touch Clark out of sudden. He knew how sudden touches still startled him.

"Really good, actually," Clark beamed at him, leaned forward for the plate with cookies and offered them to Bruce.

The billionaire murmured 'thanks' again, feeling happy because if Clark was saying he was feeling good, it meant he didn't have any panic attacks either, and then bit into the cookie. He knew that he shouldn't eat anymore because the last two weeks he had been lazy and he almost didn't exercise but he couldn't help it - Mrs. Kent was a great cook, as good as Alfred.

Once again, as if Clark knew exactly was Bruce thinking, he offered him more cookies with a mischievous smile. The billionaire narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Are you trying to make me fat?"

Clark laughed loudly, beautiful, pure sound that made Bruce warm. "Oh, yes. Just wait. Few days eating only my ma's cooking and you won't be able to get into the Batsuit."

Bruce looked at him, pretending to be irritated, but with a rare, playful spark in his eyes and he gently kicked Clark into his thigh, giving the other man enough time to notice his movement. Clark only chuckled and when Bruce tried to kick him again, he caught his foot with gentle fingers and slowly pulled it into his lap, his eyes not leaving Bruce's to make sure the other man was okay with it.

The billionaire didn't fight and just stared right back at Clark, not wanting to look away. He couldn't remember the last time he allowed such intimacy to happen with someone except Selina and that had been after long months when they had slept together and Bruce always got out of the hotel room right after the scene. But this, right here, felt... natural. Familiar even, and Bruce realized in that moment that he and Clark had practically been dating without being sexual about it for years.

He moved his other foot into Clark’s lap.

They didn't speak another word and Bruce finally looked back at the screen. When he felt the gentle but strong fingers on his feet, massaging, a pleased, approving sound almost escaped his throat. Instead, he just closed his eyes, listening to the nonsense this movie apparently was and enjoyed the skillful fingers moving, and pushing onto his feet.

It turned out to be the first time when he didn't have a panic attack the whole day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I'm taking things too fast with them but I just needed a fluffy moment for them, I'm so sorry!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you have some fluff, angst and family drama because I honestly live for all those things. Also I only read this chapter only once while editing it so there may be more mistakes than usually, all are mine.  
> I would also love to thank my friend [Erica](http://poisonedbat.tumblr.com) on tumblr for advising me and being supportive. And thanks, of course to you guys for reading the fic and making such nice comments, I love you guys <3

Before, Bruce used to sleep on the couch when he visited Clark but a lot of things changed since then. They argued (or rather had a friendly banter) that night about who would take the bed and who would be sleeping on the couch because neither of them thought it would be a great idea to share a bed. In the end, Clark managed talk Bruce into getting the bed because Bruce was feeling very sleepy and couldn’t find the energy to argue anymore.

He had clothes and trousers in his briefcase and he changed in Clark’s bedroom. It was a bit too optimistic of Bruce to think he wouldn’t have any nightmares but he had. He only woke two times from the nightmares, first at 2am, and then three hours later. Fortunately, though, he didn’t have any panic attacks that night.

Many people found it surprising that Bruce usually slept late. If he woke up on his own at noon, it would be still too soon for him. Of course, usually, Alfred came to get his lazy ass out of the bed before that could happen but these last few weeks, the butler had left him to sleep as much as he could.

Bruce realized he was smelling the sweet scent of pancakes from Clark’s kitchen but he was still half-asleep, so he heard the alien moving in the kitchen only distantly for about half an hour.

Then, he heard the door to Clark’s bedroom opening and he groaned; the sound pulled him even more from his sleep to the realm of living. He heard a soft chuckle and quiet: “Bruce.”

He grunted loudly and buried his face in the pillow, refusing to get up. Clark chuckled again and made loud steps so Bruce would know where he is in the room. The billionaire wasn't surprised when he felt the mattress shift under Clark's weight near his head.

He opened one of his eyes and frowned at the too bright sun shining through the window. Clark was sitting there, already fully dressed and he was smiling like an idiot.

Bruce groaned again and stubbornly closed his eyes. "Give me five more minutes, Clark." he asked lazily.

He jerked a bit when Clark touched his arm unexpectedly. He opened his eyes again just in time to see the other man realizing his mistake and jerking a bit before he pulled away from the billionaire, the smile slowly fading from his lips.

Bruce frowned and after few seconds, when his heartbeat returned back to normal and he was sure he wouldn't have a panic attack, he shifted closer to Clark to let him know that he was alright, that he could touch Bruce. Clark seemed to get the message. He hesitated for a second and the smile didn't return to his lips even as he gingerly touched Bruce's hair again. When the billionaire closed his eyes and forced his body to relax, though, he seemed to gain some confidence, and ran his fingers through Bruce's hair gently.

The billionaire, closing his eyes, thought it was almost _sappy_ how quickly he leaned into the soft touch. He never considered himself to be one for cuddling and stuff like that. Even with Selina, it had taken him a long time before he was comfortable enough (before he trusted her enough) to let her preform aftercare. And here he was: lying in Clark's bed and letting him to play with his hair. He wanted to kiss him so badly. He felt his dick twitch when he imagined Clark pushing him down on the sheets and taking him lazily from behind.

But it still made his stomach tighten in fear. Not the fear of Clark but the fear of another panic attack. But Bruce proud himself on being a creature in complete control of his fear, so he moved even further into the touch and shifted his arms from under the pillow so his good hand could find Clark's side and pull him closer by the hem of the reporter's shirt.

Clark could easily move away if he was feeling uncomfortable but Bruce heard another chuckle and he opened his eyes. His look met with exactly he thought he would see; Clark leaning towards him, the bed moving under their weights, and then he was kissing Bruce.

It was gentle, closed mouthed but it was just enough with Bruce. At least for now.

Then, Clark moved away, again slowly not to startle the billionaire and pulled his hand away from Bruce's hair. The billionaire grunted when he lost the touch. He lazily watched Clark move around the bed to go back to kitchen.

When he was gone, Bruce frowned, torn between getting up and going to the kitchen with Clark or staying in this hard yet comfortable bed.

Clark seemed to decide for him when the door opened again after few minutes. Clark carried a tray with pancakes and a mug of something that smelled like coffee. Bruce let an approving grunt escape his throat and he rolled over on the bed so he would be lying on his back like a lazy cat.

It was really surprising to him how easily he relaxed around Clark.

He finally decided it was enough and he used his will to open his eyes fully, going from sleepy to fully awake in one second. Clark only raised his eyebrows on that sudden change of Bruce’s posture but he didn’t make any comment. Instead, he just waited until Bruce finally sat up and leaned against the headboard, and then he put the tray in the billionaire’s lap.

Clark just smiled when Bruce murmured “Thanks,” and then awkwardly stood next to the bed. Bruce watched him for a few minutes, giving him the chance to speak first, then after sipping a bit of coffee (and being happy to find out that Clark put just the right amount of cream and sugar in there) he asked, his tone neutral: “Did you eat already?”

The alien seemed to be more nervous now that Bruce was fully awake than he was before. He was acting just like he had been the last evening before he finally managed to relax with Bruce’s feet in his lap.

The reporter looked at the floor, avoiding Bruce’s gaze, and said: “Um, no, I was waiting for you to wake up.”

Bruce nodded and looked at the clock at Clark’s bedside table. It was almost 2pm. He frowned because he realized there would be a lot of missed calls on his phone from Alfred and probably some of his kids.

“You shouldn’t have waited,” Bruce told the other man because he knew Clark usually woke up early.

Clark continued to just stand there for a few seconds, then Bruce raised his eyebrows and asked, half-amusedly half-impatiently: “Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna get in the bed?”

The other man frowned. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“No,” Bruce growled, the impatience coloring his voice more. “But I want you here… unless you don’t feel like it, of course.”

Clark gave him a shy smile, then went back to the kitchen, leaving Bruce for a minute confused He thought the reporter really wouldn’t join him but after few minutes, Clark returned with his own mug but without any plate.

Bruce watched him as he moved to the bed. He narrowed and after the alien sat down beside him, he informed him with cool voice: “You made a mistake. I do not plan to share any of those perfect pancakes with you.”

“Aw,” Clark said teasingly. “Are they really perfect?”

Of course they were. It was Martha Kent’s recipe and he was trying to make Clark reveal it to him so he could pass it to Alfred but he never managed to talk the alien into it and he didn’t think it would be quite as satisfying if he just used his detective skills.

The billionaire gave Clark unimpressed look. “That’s only because it’s your mother’s recipe. I ate your own cooking, Clark. I remember your spaghetti Bolognese.”

Clark frowned. “That was that one time, Bruce! I’m a good cook.”

The billionaire raised his eyebrows and teased: “You’re lying to yourself, Kent.”

Bruce was looking at the alien smugly as he chewed. Then, Clark’s eyes sparkled with mischief and Bruce could only grunt warningly when he noticed Clark’s fork because his mouth was still full. He watched helplessly when Clark stole some of his pancakes. The alien even had the audacity to actually smirk at him, beaming with self-satisfaction.

The billionaire decided to let it slip for now because he wanted to eat as many of those delicious pancakes as possible.

Clark didn’t seem to mind the sharing (why would he) but he didn’t get up to go to kitchen for more either, probably catching the laziness from and instead just ate from the same plate as Bruce. The billionaire could see, though, how the other man made almost anxiously sure that he had more of the pancakes than he did.

It was sweet but Bruce decided he didn’t like Clark holding back from eating for him. He decided to let it go this time, though.

They ate in comfortable silence, only pausing to sip their coffee. When there wasn’t any pancake left, Clark took the tray with the plate and mugs, and carried it back to the kitchen. Bruce waited a minute in bed, frowning because it was not like him to overeat but here he was – with his stomach unusually full. He had the feeling, though, that Alfred would be only glad because even though he didn’t have many chances to exercise, especially the upper half of his body, he was losing weight for the last few weeks. To the point Alfred had make few comments about it.

With a final sigh, Bruce threw his legs over the edge of the bed, getting ready to get up. Clark appeared in the doorframe, raising his eyebrows at him but there was a sign of tension in his shoulders that told Bruce he was nervous.

“I presume that you need to go home now, don’t you?” Clark asked and tried to sound casual.

“Not necessarily,” Bruce said because it didn’t matter; he was going to get scolded by his children no matter how late he would come home now. They were just staring at each other for a second, then Bruce finally decided that the other man needed a little push, so he leaned back against his good hand and there was a little rise in the corner of his mouth, a seductive smirk, but not the same one Bruce used at parties or social events – that one was huge and anyone who knew Bruce, _really_ knew Bruce, was aware it was false. This one was soft, with a hint of playfulness. This one was an invitation for Clark only.

The reporter hesitated only for a moment. Then, he walked slowly closer and when he stood directly above Bruce, where he stopped. A similar grin grew also on his face. They were eyeing each other for a moment, then Bruce moved slowly to touch Clark’s shirt and pulled him closer for a kiss.

It started just the same way their first kiss today; gentle, closed mouthed; more careful and soft than passionate. Then, Bruce grew impatient.

The billionaire had had only few relationships in his life and none of them were very good. The only one he could think off that could be described as sort of balanced would be with Selina… which wasn’t even a real relationship. And they had kicked off with sex. Because, after all, Bruce liked sex. He didn’t need it but he liked it a lot. And he didn’t want to stop or pause because of some stupid accident. He wanted to get laid and he told himself that the only thing that could stop him at this point would be Clark’s refusal.

He grunted into the kiss and moved his hands up across Clark’s chest, shivering with excitement when he felt the strong muscles under his fingers. Slowly, because as much as he was impatient, he didn’t want to scare Clark off. Then, he wrapped his arms around the strong neck.

Clark, who didn’t react, finally relaxed slightly and Bruce felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Encouraged by this, the billionaire pulled him closer and their chests collided. After a moment of considering, Bruce lay down on the bed, pulling the other man with him.

The alien didn’t protest but he didn’t initiate anything either, remembering the last time when he ran his hands under the billionaire’s shirt; he just let Bruce take the lead for now. And Bruce took the opportunity to press his tongue on Clark’s closed mouth. For a moment, Clark tensed. Bruce was about to pull away with apology on his lips but the other man quickly recovered and opened his mouth for Bruce.

The billionaire grunted again, pleased, and deepened the kiss, exploring Clark’s mouth tenderly. The feeling took away all of the air from Bruce’s lungs and he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to fire. When Clark finally wrapped his arms around Bruce’s waist, the billionaire moaned into Clark’s mouth, moving his legs so the alien’s would be between his own, and he moaned even louder at the friction.

When they broke apart, they shared a heated look only for a second, then Clark smiled, almost shyly, and started to nip at Bruce’s jaw. The billionaire grunted approvingly and tilted his head back slightly to give Clark more space but also so he could still look at him. He felt like it was important to keep the eye contact.

And Clark was staring at him as well with an unfamiliar, but addicting light in his eyes. Later, Bruce realized the source of that light was lust and desire but in that moment, he just moaned when Clark’s perfect white teeth brushed against his soft skin, shivering again. He was ticklish right under his jaw but he wanted to keep it a secret for as long as possible.

“Heh,” Clark chuckled. “Ticklish, aren’t you?”

Bruce scowled. Apparently, the ‘as long as possible’ hadn’t been very long. Clark laughed loudly at the look on the other man’s face and kissed him again.

The billionaire whined into the kiss, and ran his fingers through Clark’s hair. He spread his legs some more and experimentally moved his hips. Both men groaned at the created friction and Clark deepened the kiss on his own, causing Bruce to shiver in pleasure when he took control. So far, so good.

Suddenly, he heard Clark’s phone ring and vibrate it in the back pocket of his partner’s pants. It startled him because he hadn’t expected that. And he immediately pushed Clark off him because he was suddenly too _close_. The alien seemed to be startled as well because he let Bruce shove him off and he fell on the floor.

Bruce would ask him if he was alright but in that moment, he was too busy keeping himself together. He felt the familiar pain in his chest as he was starting to have troubles with breathing and there was sweat on his forehead. It took a lot of his willpower to remember his breathing exercise and to remember where he was. He cleared his mind and focused on the ceiling of Clark’s bedroom.

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to calm down but when he did, Clark wasn’t in the room anymore. Bruce knew the other man wouldn’t just leave him there to deal with his panic attack alone unless he would directly tell Clark to go away. The billionaire didn’t have to be a genius to realize the other man probably had a panic attack of his own, and Bruce felt guilty for pushing Clark off even though he knew it was natural and understandable. What wasn’t understandable was that a stupid phone call could make him lose it again.

“Clark?” he tried, his throat dry and his voice weak. Clark with his superhearing probably heard it but Bruce repeated anyway, this time he managed to perfectly control his voice: “Clark!”

He didn’t receive any answer and he decided to stay in bed for a few more minutes, give the other man chance to call for him or to return. After these few minutes, he heard the other man open the door leading to the bathroom and Clark walked inside the room but kept his distance. He was pale and there was sweat on his forehead.

“It was Alfred,” Clark informed the billionaire, his voice almost as perfectly controlled as Bruce’s own. “He says the batboys are getting anxious about your whereabouts.”

Bruce sighed and rose to his feet, too tired to make a remark about Clark calling his sons ‘batboys.’ He kept his posture straight and proud, every single move of his perfectly controlled. If it wasn’t for the sweat on him, nobody would be able to tell he had a panic attack few minutes ago.

“I should probably go,” he told Clark but making sure his voice was kind.

“Yeah.”

It didn’t look like his tone changed Clark’s mood and, yes, Bruce probably shouldn’t have expected anything else, but he still wished he could… do something.

The billionaire already had most of his things packed, the only thing that remained was to change his pajamas for a suite. When the billionaire moved to the suitcase, Clark had left him alone in the room.

The billionaire didn’t rush. He always felt tired and weak after the panic attacks. And he needed to get ready for the interrogation that was surely waiting for him in the manor. He could already hear his kids asking nosy questions; where he had been, what he had been doing, with whom he had been doing it. He didn’t doubt it would be mostly Jason and Damian asking but he hoped at least Dick, Tim and Cass would provide him some support.

Frowning darkly, he took the suitcase and left Clark’s bedroom. He found the other man standing in the kitchen, pretending to be busy with cutting vegetable. His movements were too slow and too precise for him to be okay.

Bruce’s frown only deepened and he said: “I’ll see you, Clark.”

 “Okay,” was the only thing the alien hummed.

The billionaire continued to just stand there awkwardly for a moment, then he turned on his heel and headed towards the door only to roll his eyes and, while feeling like a fool, to turn around again to walk back into Clark’s kitchen.

The reporter was surprised to see him return but he only raised his eyebrow – in defense of his silence, he looked like he was going to throw up the moment he’d open mouth.

“Clark, you are aware this wasn’t your fault, aren’t you?” Bruce raised his eyebrows, his voice was soft. He felt so stupid for even talking about this. He hated talking about his ‘feelings.’

The alien hesitated for a second too long but it was enough for Bruce to interrupt him just when he opened his mouth to say something. “Clark, this will happen again. Something will set one of us off and we will have to stop anything we’re doing in that moment to give the other space. It’s not your fault, and it’ll never be.”

Clark didn’t reply for few minutes, he just stared with empty eyes on the vegetable in front of him. He was holding the knife so tightly Bruce was surprised he didn’t break it. “What if it’ll never stop? What if we won’t be able to move past that?”

Bruce took time with the answer, considering carefully his every word. “Well, I’m sure we both will do everything we can so that won’t happen. There’s not anything else, we can do.”

Clark thought about his words for a few seconds, then he just nodded and said quietly: “Okay.”

The billionaire considered the conversation to be over with this and, after he gave his partner a small smile, he walked outside the door.

“I’ll call you,” He informed Clark just before he left the apartment. 

* * *

 

Bruce was strangely calm on the way home. The tiredness eventually washed away from him and he felt just as rested as he had felt in the morning. He also didn’t feel anxious about his children questioning him about where he was with whom.

The driver he had called stopped in front of the front door of the manor, Bruce thanked him and got out of the car. He pretended he didn’t see the curious eyes of his youngest son in one of the windows of the second floor, and walked inside.

Alfred was immediately by his side with his usual neutral expression but there was a pleased spark in his eyes. When he took Bruce’s coat and suitcase he mentioned quietly so nobody else would hear him: “You look quiet well-rested, master Bruce.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows, not bothering to stop the smile he felt growing on his face. “Are you sure?”

There was a twitch in the corner of Alfred’s mouth. “Perhaps it has something to do with the visit of a certain… friend.”

“Perhaps,” Bruce nodded, they walked side by side inside the manor. “Where are the others?”

Alfred didn’t skin a beat. “Master Damian is in his room. He went there after he accused Master Tim of stealing the Pokémon he had been catching first. The others are in the living room playing some sort of video game.”

Before Bruce could stop himself, he asked: “And which Pokémon was that?”

He made sure not to look embarrassed when Alfred raised his eyebrow, surprised by Bruce’s interest in Pokémon, before he answered: “It had been a Dratini if I remember correctly.”

Bruce had no idea which Pokémon they were talking about but he could always ask Barbara later. From his experience, she was the least likely to actually spread rumors in the family about how uneducated in certain areas.

“Hey, Bruce!” Dick suddenly appeared in the door, going from the living room to the kitchen. He had a huge smile on his face and he was looking rather smugly. “You won’t believe who we managed to catch last night!”

“The Riddler and the Scarecrow!” Tim walked outside the kitchen and handed Dick bag of chips and a bottle of coke.

Bruce frowned. He knew that his children were more than capable to take care of themselves but he didn’t like the idea of them facing both the Riddler and Scarecrow. Especially since he heard the rumors about their… partnership from Selina.

“How did you manage that?” he asked, actually curious because neither Tim neither Dick looked wounded and they both looked pretty much normal so they hadn’t gotten a dose of fear toxin either.

Dick grinned, clearly waiting for Bruce to ask him that. “They were distracted because Riddler was trying to catch a Pikachu nearby… Joke’s on him, Jason got him while we were handing him to police. He seemed to be pretty pissed at Jason, though.”

Tim snorted. “You can’t really blame him I mean… Jason literally waved his phone in front of his face, showing off his Pikachu.”

“Bruce!” Jason peeked out of the living room, interrupting their conversation and looking pissed. “Could you come here?”

Bruce braced himself for whatever Jason was going to throw at him – verbally speaking –  and followed Dick and Tim into the living room. Cassandra, Steph and Barbara were there as well, sitting on the couch and Bruce noticed that Damian glanced in the room as well few seconds after Bruce entered.

Jason was standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. Bruce couldn’t help it, Jason looked like a huge drama queen in that moment, like a character from one of the Spanish telenovelas his kids sometimes watched to entertain themselves and laugh at it… needless to say that Jason didn’t laugh as often as the others, and sometimes even looked genuinely interested.

“Did you have fun yesterday, Bruce?” Jason asked.

“Yes,” Bruce didn’t miss a beat with the answer.

If Jason hadn’t expected this answer, he didn’t let it show. “And where were you? We called to your hotel last night. You didn’t check in.”

The billionaire considered his answer for only a second before he decided it would be the best just to say the truth: “I spent the night at Superman’s place.”

Jason’s face went pale and his face shifted with anger but before he could start to tell Bruce how stupid or irresponsible he was, Damian growled: “Why, father?”

Dick, loving all the drama in the family, collapsed into one of the chairs, the video game forgotten, opened his bag of chips and watched the melodramatic discourse with grin on his face and chomping on the snack. Tim and Barbara joined him, both of them smiling, and Cassandra and Steph simply watched Bruce with gleeful spark in their eyes. They all seemed to be far too entertained than was appropriate.

Now that the family drama couldn’t be avoided, Bruce honestly stopped to care. As if it was the clearest thing in the world, he said: “Because we are together.”

There was a very short moment when no one said anything, Jason and Damian stared at him, trying to make him uncomfortable with their stares.

“What do you mean by ‘together’?!” Damian asked angrily.

Bruce scowled at him. Damian knew very well what that meant.

His youngest returned the scowl. “What if he loses it again?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. When he spoke, the annoyance was clear in his voice: “We already talked about this. And I’m going to date him whether you like it or not. This is mine and his decision to make, not yours.”

“But that’s just wrong!” Jason spat at him, clearly trying to come up with arguments. “We’ve known him for years! That’s like dating someone from the family.”

Bruce saw with the corner of his eye how Dick stopped to grin. He wasn’t stupid – he knew that Dick and Jason had been together for some time but he’d never spoken about it because it wasn’t his place to do so. He hoped they would tell him themselves.

The temptation to do expose them, however, was stronger now than ever. He immediately brushed this thought off, though. He was about to give Jason some other clever response but Dick was faster.

“You hypocrite!” he yelled, pointing at Jason.

Bruce heard Tim make a remark: “This is getting better and better!”

Jason’s face turned even paler. “Dick, that’s not the topic of this discussion! We’re talking about-“

“You two are dating?!” Barbara looked from Jason to Dick. Most of the others were about as confused as she was. “Why haven’t I heard about this from you sooner?”

“We’re not dating!” Jason yelled, desperation coloring his voice slightly. “Now, let’s get back to-“

Dick pushed the bag of chips on Tim’s chest and rose from his chair. Dick didn’t get angry often but when he did, it was scary. His expression was twisted with fury when he shouted:  “’Not dating?!’ Screw you, asshole!” then he stormed out of the room.

“Dick!” both Jason and Bruce called after him but when Jason tried to go after him, Damian stood in his way, his expression cold.

“You’re a stupid idiot, Todd!”

Jason growled and stepped closer to the young boy, invading his personal space. “Get out of my way, you spawn of the devil!”

Damian snorted and pulled the card he didn't use often: “We have the same father, you stupid shithead!”

Jason, clearly waiting for response like that, smirked. “I was talking about your mother.”

Before Bruce had the chance to interrupt their fight, Damian screamed and slammed his body into Jason’s, successfully knocking the older male over the couch.

All the family drama ended with Bruce and Steph holding Jason back while Tim and Cass held Damian (while the two of them were trying to break free, yelling insults at one another). There were several bruises on everyone, Barbara was watching them anxiously, and Alfred had to pick up pieces of a broken vase from the floor.

When everything was over, Dick was stil locked in his room, Jason left the manor, Damian run away to the gardens and the rest of the kids was silently sitting in the living room.

Bruce thought he could have handled it all better as he was thanking Alfred for handing him an ice bag for his bruised eye he had received from Jason’s elbow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just think Bruce isn't the only one Damian is protective of, if ya know what I mean ;))) Also, I don't think Jason would actually mean what he said about Talia... I just think he's the type who hits where he knows it'll hurt. Also, did you notice my reference on my new ship? ;)))  
> Soooo, what do you think, guys?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter slightly sooner than I had expected and it wouldn't be without my great friend and beta [Erica](http://poisonedbat.tumblr.com)! Thank you guys for reading this, your kudos and comments make me so happy!

Bruce had found out long time ago that the worst thing about being a parent was to know when to let his kids deal with their problems, or their hurt, alone from time to time. He couldn’t be there for them all the time, no matter how much he wished he could be, and his presence sometimes wasn’t even wanted.

So, when Dick didn’t come down for dinner that night, he didn’t go to his room. Jason spent the rest of the day and the night out, probably venting his anger on criminals. Damian returned to his room later that evening and he even joined them for dinner. Bruce saw him knocking at the door to Dick’s room, demanding for the older male to open it, but Dick didn’t even bother with an answer. They knew he was there, though. He used to do this all the time when he had been younger.

Jason returned for breakfast the following day. He and Damian stared at each other, trying to murder one another with their glares, but, fortunately, there weren’t any more thrown punches.

After breakfast, Bruce decided he had waited long enough. When everyone, except for Jason who was nowhere to seen, was busy with some other activity, he sneaked away and went upstairs, to Dick’s room.

Jason was already there, knocking and waiting at the door. “Come on, Dick, open the fucking door.”

“Go to hell, Jason!”

Jason didn’t notice Bruce right away. If he did, he probably wouldn’t have said: “I’ve already been there, sweetheart, remember? There’s no need for this drama.”

“Fuck you!”

“Jason,” Bruce spoke softly, before the younger man could say something he would regret even more later on. Jason shrank back, giving Bruce a confused look, before he remembered to be angry.

“I’m not in the mood for a talk, Bruce,” he growled at the billionaire.

Bruce raised one of his eyebrows. “And here you are, trying to make Dick talk to you.”

“That’s not the same!” Jason snapped at him. “Just go away and let me handle this, alright?”

He was about to knock again, but Bruce quickly stepped closer to him and caught his wrist in the air. The billionaire waited until Jason angrily looked him in the eye, then spoke slowly. “Go downstairs, Jason. I’ll see what I can do.”

He was sure that Dick didn’t hear him because of the music that was playing from his room and he talked softly.

Jason seemed to hesitate and for a moment. Bruce could see real regret flashed across his face. Jason sighed eventually and nodded. “Okay… but let me know when you think I can come back here.”

He said the last part very quietly, too afraid Dick would hear him.

Bruce knew that it was hard for Jason to express his true feelings. He always pretended to be tougher than he actually was. It was a bad thing sometimes… like today. Bruce was sure Dick would be glad to hear that Jason cared.

The billionaire nodded and waited until Jason walked to the stairs at the end of the hall, then he knocked gently.

Dick didn’t reply but Bruce heard him turning off the radio. The billionaire stood in front of the door for few minutes, not knocking again because he knew that if Dick was ready he would open the door.

Bruce was about to turn on his heel and go downstairs to wait few more hours, when Dick finally opened the door. His expression was a mix of sadness and anger, but Bruce was grateful his eyes weren’t red. Dick had never been one to cry often and if he would have, it would trouble Bruce much more. But still, he worried about his oldest.

Dick didn’t say anything. He simply stepped aside and opened the door some more, letting Bruce know that he could come in. The billionaire walked in silently and closed the door.

The young man already moved to his old bed. Bruce had felt like a sentimental fool for doing it, but he had kept everything in the room as it was before Dick moved away. He’d left behind some things he’d considered too childish to bring with him to his own flat like posters and an old teddy bear (Bruce still remembered when Dick had stayed over that one night and the other boys found out about his old stuffed animals – they still made fun of him for it occasionally).

Dick sat on his bed, his legs crossed and he watched Bruce with an empty look.

Bruce waited for few seconds and then asked: “How are you feeling?”

Dick raised his eyebrow and chuckled at the billionaire’s awkwardly sounding question – both of them knew that Bruce usually sucked at these little talks.

“It’s better,” he said finally and moved slightly to the side.

Bruce took the hint and sat down next to him. Before he could figure out what he was going to say next, Dick spoke again: “Are you pissed?”

The question surprised Bruce. He never even thought about being angry at Dick or Jason, and he couldn’t even think of a reason why he would be.

“Why would I be pissed?” Bruce asked honestly.

Dick looked up at him and the billionaire could almost see how Dick was considering whether he was making fun of him or not.

“Well,” his oldest finally spoke, nervousness clear in his voice. "I'm dating Jason? We kept this whole thing a secret mainly because I was afraid you wouldn't approve."

Bruce knew very well that Dick still felt guilty for not being there for Jason before the younger man had died and because of that they had never really had time to bond as brothers, no matter how much Dick had tried afterwards. And when their affection for each other had grown, Bruce would have to be blind not to see it was very far from brotherly love both of his boys had felt for each other.

The billionaire cursed to himself. He should've seen Dick's insecurity and the reason he hadn't told him about the relationship until now.

"Why wouldn't I?" Bruce asked but not unkindly. He put his hand on Dick's shoulder and waited until the young man looked him in the eye. He saw that nine years old boy again. The billionaire felt a smile pulling at his lips. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're a grown man and you can make your own decisions. If you want to be with Jason, there's not much I can do... even if I wanted to... The only thing I care about is that you're happy."

They were looking each other in the eye for a minute before Dick burst out laughing, making Bruce frown. "You sound so sappy, Bruce."

The billionaire's frowned deepened but before he could truly become offended, Dick made a slow motion towards and Bruce knew, he was going to get pulled into a hug. He didn't protest, instead, he awkwardly placed his arms around his son and patted his back.

After few seconds, Dick finally pulled away and with a huge smile on his lips he said: "Tell Jason he can stop eavesdropping behind the door and come in now."

Bruce smiled as well. He was also aware of the young man snooping behind the closed door.

The billionaire stood up. He almost had his fingers on the door knob when he remembered he wanted to ask Dick for advice.

"Dick," he said quietly and walked back to his oldest son. "I want to ask... do you think it would be a good idea to invite Clark for dinner at the end of the weekend?"

The younger man seemed to be surprised, but a huge grin spread across his lips and he said: "Yeah, that would be cool. I mean, if you're okay with it, Bruce, and if you're ready for Damian to be broody and generally mean."

Bruce was. He knew it wouldn't be easy with Damian, but he also knew that his youngest son wouldn't be the only one making trouble.

"You don't worry about Jason?" he asked.

Dick's grin only widened. "Nah, I can handle him, Bruce. Especially now."

The billionaire just shook his head and then made light, silent steps to the door. Dick found it very entertaining and he nodded at him in approval.

Bruce didn't bother to fight off the smirk on his face when he opened the door abruptly, causing Jason to almost fall on the floor from his spot where he had been listening to them.

His first reaction, of course, was to be ashamed of being discovered and both, Bruce and Dick, watched with smirks as Jason's cheeks reddened. He quickly pulled himself together, though.

He straightened up and glared at Bruce. "Why did you do that?"

Bruce didn't manage to answer because Dick spoke first: "Jay, could you come here? I think we need to talk?"

Jason looked between Bruce and Dick few times before he gave the billionaire the last glare and walked to Dick's bed. He waited until Dick patted the bed beside him to actually sit down, and Bruce had enough. He left the room, letting the two of them deal with their problems like adults they had (sadly) become.

* * *

 

Bruce called Clark that night, but he didn't invite him for the dinner just yet. He knew the Kryptonian was still feeling guilty about his panic attack, so they just talked.

The following day, though, the doctor Leslie visited the manor and asked him about his wrist. It'd been some time Bruce actually felt any pain, so he told her that it was probably fine.

The doctor simply nodded and decided to take off the cast. It was a relief and strangely enough, Bruce slept better that night, now that he didn't have the last reminder of the accident in the storehouse on his body. He also felt safer, now that he could fully train and defend himself if he needed to.

The billionaire didn't tell his exact emotions to Clark, but he did mention he was glad he would be going back to action and put on the Batsuit. He was glad when Clark shared his enthusiasm.

 Despite his children's protests, he went on a patrol that night. He also proved them wrong for their baseless worries about his safety when he beat up every bad guy that got into his way and also putting the Mad Hatter back into the asylum.

None of the kids needed to know that he almost fell down while using his grapple because of his still weaker wrist.

When he fell asleep that night, it was during the call with Clark, but he couldn't really complain about anything else. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the fact that he could truly defend himself again, he didn't know. What he did know, though, was that he had only one nightmare that night.

The second day, he invited Clark and he said yes after short convincing.

Bruce was more nervous about his kids - Jason and Dick were still staying at his house, and it looked like Barbara and Steph would stay in the manor for a while as well.

When he announced that Superman would be coming to dinner, first one to actually comment on it was Tim - he had asked if it meant he could invite Kon as well. Bruce normally wouldn't mind the presence of Clark's biological son. On contrary, he wanted to spend some time with him as well since he and Clark were dating, but he wasn't sure if that would be a good idea. He knew that in case Jason or Damian would make biting remarks about Clark, Kon would come to his rescue, and he was much more short-tempered than his father, so his presence would only increase the chance for a real fight. Tim understood immediately, even though Bruce only said no.

Jason wanted to make a comment as well, but it was evident that Dick kicked him under the table to keep his mouth shut, and he surprisingly did. He only showed his disapproval by crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

Damian didn't argue, he simply stood up and walked away from the table.

Generally, Bruce thought his announcement went pretty good.

By the time Saturday came by, Bruce was in almost perfect shape and he returned to his full duties as the Batman. He had managed to almost catch the Joker, but he had escaped because Killer Croc was there as well and Bruce was too busy with him. Nightwing spent his nights in Blüdhaven, but he still came back home in the morning, if he didn't have the shift during the day.

The billionaire knew that Clark was nervous - it was clear from their call last night, but he was pretty sure it was going to be alright. Most of Bruce's kids liked Superman, even though not all of them knew his secret identity. He truly appreciated that Clark was willing to let this kids know who he was during the day.

He tried to dress well that night, but not too well. He knew that if he did so, the kids would tease him about it for another few years. It was enough when he had run into Dick in the morning (fortunately, only him) and his son just grinned at him like a child and told him that he looked like he was going to faint.

The billionaire was just helping Alfred to chase away kids from the almost finished meals, when the bell at the door rung.

Bruce instinctively ran his hand through his hair to make sure it was alright. It earned him a sarcastic: "Don't worry, Bruce, you look pretty!" from Jason who was already seated at the table.

This time, Dick only giggled at it for which Bruce felt slightly betrayed and glared at both of them even though the other kids were laughing as well.

He went to the door, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He really hoped his kids would be good and they wouldn't make too many of their typical gibes and captious remarks.

When he opened the door, Clark was standing there with an awkward smile on his lips. He was wearing his typical jeans and shirt that was one size smaller, close-fitting. Not too much, but definitely enough to show his muscular arms and chest. He also had a bag over his shoulders, probably with his things. He was also holding a bouquet of bellflowers and a box of chocolates.

Bruce raised his eyebrows and looked at Clark. Of course that huge nerd had to bring the flowers, but at least he brought the bellflowers and not the roses, that would be a total catastrophe (not that Bruce’s distaste of roses had anything to do with the fact that bellflowers were indeed his favorite).

Also, not many people knew that Bruce had a sweet tooth. Most of time, he was on the strict diet Alfred came up with to keep him in perfect shape for fighting crime… although lately, he didn’t go by it very much.

“I don’t eat chocolate,” he told Clark because he honestly couldn’t remember telling his partner about loving almost anything sweet and all types of ice cream.

Clark gave him a doubtful look. “Really? Then I guess my bag of gummy bears and that chocolate bar just disappeared two months ago you slept over at my place.”

Damn. He knew about Bruce’s midnight snacks he had at Clark’s place when he woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall asleep anymore.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he informed Clark too coolly, unintentionally   giving out the lie.

“Oh, finally someone is giving him some sweets, I hope he’ll stop eating ours now.”

Bruce and Clark looked in the direction of the dining room. Tim, who spoke, was grinning and Barbara by his side giggled.

Steph appeared behind them and as soon as she saw the scene in front of her, she said, sounding truly touched: “Aww, he brought him flowers! That’s so sweet!”

Bruce was about to send them all back into the dining room, when the only loyal member of this family appeared and saved him the trouble.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred appeared behind the kids and gave them a significant look until the duo took the hint.  All three of them quickly disappeared into the room. “The table is laid and the dinner is ready.”

“We’ll be right there,” Bruce said. They waited until Alfred walked into the dining room. Then, Bruce took the box of chocolate.

“Thanks,” he murmured and looked at the brand. It wasn’t one of the more expensive most of people who knew him (and could afford it) would give him, but it was one of those he often ate at Clark’s place during the not-so-secret midnight snacks.

“I think it’s your favorite.”

And of course Clark needed to make a comment about that. The billionaire rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“Well, come in,” he said, taking both, the box and the bouquet.

Clark did with a smile and commented: “You look good, Bruce.”

The billionaire didn’t know if Clark was talking about his healed wrist or if he was generally nice. Either way, Bruce felt warmth inside his stomach.

He snorted: “Don’t I always look good?”

Clark chuckled. “Yes, you do and Bruce…”

The billionaire turned to him and Clark slowly stepped into his space, leaning to his ear without breaking eye contact. “I love it when you’re sassy.”

And really, that sentence wasn’t supposed to be arousing, yet Bruce’s heartbeat quickened and he took in a sharp breath.

The reporter, that bastard, must have known because he smiled coyly, before he stepped back and put his stuff to the side, to where Bruce had pointed before. Together, they walked the hall. Just when they were only few steps away from the door leading to the dining room, Bruce turned around.

“I thought…” Bruce started, but the words died in his throat. He had no idea how to say this the right way, he never had to before.

The billionaire was grateful that Clark was patient and waited for him to figure out the right words. After few seconds, he fortunately found his voice again and asked quietly: “Would you like to sleep in the same bed tonight?”

Clark watched him for a few seconds, then it was as if something clicked inside his brain and his cheeks turned slightly red. Seeing him being embarrassed about this, Bruce felt his own ears heat up.

“Um, do you think it’s a good idea?” Clark asked, in the same quiet voice.

Bruce immediately shook his head. “If you don’t feel like it, we definitely don’t have t-“

“No,” Clark interrupted him. “That’s not it, Bruce. I’m more concerned about you.”

Bruce frowned. “Well, then don’t be,” he said.  “I can take care of myself, Clark.”

It looked like Clark was still considering it, but eventually, he nodded. “Okay.”

Bruce gave him a half smile. He reached for Clark and slowly pulled him for a kiss. Clark smiled just before they kissed. Their lips brushed; it was slow and soft, and it somehow brought both men comfort. Bruce felt Clark’s arm wrapping around his back, and even though he hadn’t expected it, he didn’t feel any panic. An almost inaudible sound escaped Bruce’s mouth and he wanted to just get lost in the kiss, he wanted to go upstairs with Clark and just lock them in his bedroom.

The alien, hearing the blood rushing through Bruce's veins in excitement and anticipation, grinned into the kiss and gave him a soft, invisible bite on the jaw, before he let him go.

Both of them smoothened out their clothes before they finally walked into the dining room. The others were already seated. Everyone sat in their usual spots except for Damian - Bruce's youngest son usually sat in the chair next to his but now, it had been left empty and Damian sat at the farthest end of the table. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he was very obviously trying to murder both, Bruce and Clark, with his glare.

"Hey, Clark," they were immediately greeted by Dick.

Bruce knew that there was still that kind of nervous tension between his children and Clark. Even though he and the alien were good friends, Clark usually didn't spend too much time in the manor. Now, that Bruce thought about it, he wasn't even sure why, but they had usually been at Clark's place. Maybe it was because sometimes Bruce just needed some silence and Clark never forced him to talk when he didn't want to, though he was still there.

The only one who somehow was close to Clark was probably Dick. They got along very well actually, and it wasn't a surprise that the young man was trying to ease the tension in the air.

"Hi," Clark smiled as much as he could, his shoulders tensed.

"Master Clark," Alfred half greeted him, half addressed him. "Please take a seat."

Clark and Bruce walked to their seats and sat down. The tension only worsened.

"So, how is Supergirl?"

Bruce turned to look at Jason, slightly surprised that Jason even tried to sound friendly - not that he did that much, but it was clear that he'd tried. Dick looked very pleased, too.

"She's alright," Clark said. "When I told her I was going here tonight, she actually told me to say hi."

It was clear Jason didn't expect that sort of answer and was trying to come up with something to say so Bruce saved him the trouble: "I didn't know you knew Supergirl."

"Of course I know her!" Jason sounded annoyed. "When I was in Metropolis the other night, she freakin' accused me of wanting to kill a dog! A dog for freakin' sake!"

"You wanted to kill a dog?" Tim sounded horrified and everyone around the table looked at Jason.

"Ugh, Jason that's low even for you!" Barbara told him with wrinkled nose.

Alfred finally brought the food to the table, but didn't interfere other than raising his eyebrows at Jason. Dick, clearly already knowing the story, laughed by Jason's side.

"Are you all deaf or what?" Jason yelled to which Alfred pressed his finger to lips, indicating for him not to be so loud. "I told you I didn't kill the dog! I just locked it away! What kind of a creep would I be to kill a dog?"

"You do kill people," Bruce mentioned, frowning at Jason.

"Screw you, Bruce!" Jason shouted and pointed at him with the spoon he was about to eat his supper with. "I'll kill whoever I want."

"Jason," Dick said warningly.

Clark cleared his throat. "Well, it does sound a bit unnecessary."

"Who asked you, alien-freak!"

"Jason!" several voices shouted and then more than one pair of eyes looked in Clark's direction to see his reaction.

The reporter seemed to be actually pretty calm about it, Bruce could even see an entertained spark in his partner's eyes. He signed quietly in relieve - he was glad to see that Clark was aware Jason's outbursts didn't mean anything.

"What?" Jason asked. "He's the one who started this."

"Shut up and eat," Bruce told him calmly, knowing very well what the young man would tell him.

"How the hell am I supposed to eat with a mouth shut?!"

Bruce glared at him but didn't make another remark. Instead, he took a spoon of the soup and started to eat.

Surprisingly enough, there weren't any more outbursts that evening. Probably because Damian was sulking at that moment. Bruce was sure that it would last his youngest son only few days before he would blow a fuse.

Most of the kids were talking to each other. Dick and Barbara seemed to have a very serious conversation about some video game they were planning to play (something called Until Dawn), Tim and Steph were talking about a book.

Bruce was very pleased to see Clark having a conversation with Cass about chakras. Bruce had no doubt he also knew something about the subject, but he was very patient with her and listened to everything she said. Sometimes people forgot that Clark was also incredibly smart and he loved to learn new things.

Bruce noticed Alfred smiling at him softly from his spot at the table. The billionaire returned the smile and then looked back at Clark and Cassandra.

It reminded him that he should also probably get to know Clark's cousin and son better. He couldn't really remember a time when he had had a normal conversation with them and not something superhero related.

Bruce was eating slowly on purpose so he would still be there while the other members of his family excused themselves and went to do their own stuff. Barbara was picked up by her father before she even finished her desert and Alfred was very happy to give her the rest to go. The next ones where first Damian, then Steph and Tim together.

Then Jason and Dick, going to Dick’s room. Bruce glared at Jason when the man put his arm around Dick’s waist and looked over his shoulder to smirk at Bruce. The billionaire had no idea why Jason did that, but he guessed he was looking for a reaction, so he gave him one. Cassandra was the last one to walk away, giving Clark a soft smile before leaving.

“You did well,” Bruce told Clark silently.

The reporter’s cheeks blushed and Bruce laughed.

Clark blushed even more because Alfred was still with them in the room. The alien cleared his throat and asked: “Do you want me to help you with the tableware?”

Alfred smiled but shook his head.  “I think I’ll manage, Master Clark. If you wish to, you can now go.”

Bruce rose up and stopped himself when he reached for Clark’s shoulder – he didn’t want to startle the other man. “Let’s go.”

The reporter obediently stood up, thanked for the food, and together they picked up Clark’s stuff, walked through the suddenly silent manor to Bruce’s room.

When they were in front of Bruce’s bedroom, the billionaire made a sudden decision.

“Clark,” he said softly and when the said man looked at him, he gently pushed him on the chest to the wall and kissed him.

The reporter didn’t seem to be distressed, only slightly surprised. He let himself be maneuvered and returned the kiss with passion.

Bruce moaned into the kiss, quietly, because they were still in the hallway. The rush of the possibility of getting caught, turned him on a bit. Clark wrapped his arm around Bruce’s waist, pulled him closer, and ran his other hand across the small of the billionaire’s back to his ass. He hesitantly squeezed and Bruce showed his approval by a low grunt.

In that moment, Bruce knew he couldn’t wait any longer, so he pulled away from the kiss and leaned closer to whisper: “Let’s take it to the bedroom,” because even though the idea of someone walking on them was exciting, it would probably be one of the kids and Bruce didn't want to traumatize them for life (nor did he want to hear remarks about it for the next 10 years, thank you very much).

"Okay," Clark whispered right back, his voice deep and rough and heated. It sent shivers to Bruce's spine when he heard that voice. It was so different from the cold one.

 Before Bruce could let himself think too much about the coldness, he took Clark by his hand and dragged him into the bedroom. He didn't bother to turn the lights on. He saw Clark perfectly even in the dark and seeing him fully could result in another panic attack, and Bruce wanted to do everything he could to prevent it. Plus, and he knew he was being irrational now, it was less likely, like this, that the reporter would pay attention to his scars. The billionaire refused to think about himself as a self-conscious person, but he didn't want the reporter to stare at them and see the difference between his body and Bruce's.

Clark didn't protest.

As soon as the door closed behind them, they were on each other again, kissing tenderly yet passionately and as they were making their slow way to the bed, the kiss got more heated and there was more hunger to it. Clark tripped over something at the floor at some point. Both of them laughed about it and Bruce pushed Clark gently on the bed.

He wanted Clark to... have his way with him, but he wasn't naïve and knew that it probably wouldn't happen for a while.

The billionaire sat down on Clark's crotch, his knees apart, each at the Clark's sides. He thrusted his hips against Clark's. The hot, irresistible friction caused both of them to moan in pleasure. Bruce leaned down to kiss Clark, running his hands over the alien's muscular shoulders.

The kiss was hot, messy and full of teeth, and when Clark bit at Bruce's lower lip harder than ever before, Bruce felt the familiar rush in his veins he didn't feel since he and Selina had had a full scene. It made him jerk and whimper.

The sound must've entertained Clark because he chuckled. Bruce couldn't really pretend to be offended by it so he chuckled with him.

Then, to Bruce's utter shock, but also delight, Clark propped on his elbows, leaned closer to Bruce, with his cheeks slightly red, and whispered into the billionaire's ear: "I want to suck you off."

Bruce was glad he was already on top of Clark because he felt so weak at his knees, he almost fell on him. The worst thing was that the alien seemed to know exactly what he did to him and he laughed again. This time, Bruce would actually protest, but before he could put himself together, Clark kissed him again, hungrily, taking control over the kiss slowly but completely and Bruce surrendered.

When Clark broke the kiss, Bruce was feeling like a mess. He was already sweaty, his cock was rock hard and all of his clothes were too tight. He almost didn’t even notice when the alien under him leaned to his ear again and whispered seductively.

“Will you let me do that, Bruce?” he asked, almost growling Bruce’s name in hot voice before he nipped at Bruce’s earlobe, making the man above him tremble.

It took all of Bruce’s self-control to bite back a moan and say in normal voice: “Yes.”

They slowly shifted, not rushing it. Clark gave Bruce enough time to get used to being underneath him before Clark took off his own shirt, flexing his muscles as he did so. Bruce wanted to reach for him, but something stopped him. He watched Clark as the reporter took off his jeans, but kept the briefs on. He looked absolutely perfect and as always it reminded Bruce of one of Greek gods’ – perfect in every way and without a single scar.

He drank in the view and he didn’t notice Clark was watching him, until the other man asked: “Can I take off your clothes too?”

Bruce wanted to say ‘yes’ because he wanted them to be equals in bedroom right now, but the thought of being naked in front of Clark, being vulnerable in front of him and he seeing all those scars in contrast of his perfect body made him slightly uneasy and the answer that came out of Bruce was: “No.”

Clark didn’t seem to be offended by the slightest by it, but Bruce noticed the sad expression that crossed over Clark’s face before the reporter pushed it away and smiled kindly. “That’s okay.”

Bruce felt like a giant ass and he was about to remove his clothes despite his problems with it, but Clark sunk down between Bruce’s legs and caressed him through the fabric of Bruce’s clothes.

It made him gulp again, especially when Clark’s kind smile changed into seductive smirk. The man rubbed him roughly, not breaking the eye contact with Bruce.

The billionaire cursed and reached for Clark, not even sure what he was reaching for, but the reporter took him and lanced their fingers together before he brought the hand to his lips and kissed its back.

Bruce had no idea how such an innocent gesture could turn the blood in his veins into lava, but it did. He whimpered and ran his hand through Clark’s hair, writhing slightly underneath him.

As he played with Clark’s hair, the man got himself more comfortable between Bruce’s legs. He started to slowly undo Bruce’s pants, intentionally rubbing Bruce’s cock through the fabric. Clark pulled them down slightly and finally freed the billionaire’s cock, making him gulp loudly.

Clark touched him lightly at first, just one finger slowly moving around the edge of his foreskin. Just that made Bruce tremble again and tightened his grip on Clark’s hair, but he didn’t dare to pull at it.

The reporter seemed to be very proud of himself, grinning like an idiot. He gripped Bruce’s hand and gave it a firm stroke. Bruce groaned and Clark did it again.

Before the billionaire could get used to the pace, Clark’s whole mouth was on his cock, his tongue circling around it. Bruce let out a desperate moan, collapsing on his back completely, unable to take the hunger in Clark’s eyes.

Clark swallowed him whole, slowly sliding down on his cock. Bruce considered where Clark learned to do this only for a second because the heat of the reporter’s mouth was killing him. He knew he was going to come embarrassingly fast at this pace. He thrusted his hips up anyway.

Clark didn’t gag at all. He smirked around Bruce’s cock and then pinned the other man’s hips down, watching Bruce carefully for the reaction. Bruce whimpered in something that was half desperation, half arousal, and closed his eyes again as his cock twitched in interest. He was getting more and more dizzy and he felt his ears redden in embarrassment.

Clark must’ve known what was going on in Bruce’s head because he let the billionaire’s cock go with a pop and told him: “You should see yourself right now, Bruce. So fucking beautiful.”

Clark didn’t swear often. That was maybe why Bruce let his control finally go and begged in pleading voice. “Clark, please, fuck, just-“

“I know,” the alien smiled and he lowered his mouth on Bruce again, wrapping his perfect pink lips around Bruce’s cock. The billionaire felt his eyes roll back in ecstasy and he gripped the sheets in his hand, crying out loud.

Clark was moving incredibly fast up and down, sucking harshly at Bruce’s cock. It was almost painful, but the pain was mixing with the pleasure that was spreading through Bruce’s whole being. He felt the tension building in his belly and he finally looked at Clark again. His cheeks were hollowed and he was still watching Bruce hungrily. Honestly, the last straw to break Bruce’s iron will not to come was, when Clark used his teeth, scraping just slightly over his skin, and that was it.

He came with a loud groan, not even having enough time to warn Clark. The other man didn’t seem to mind, though, he didn’t stop sucking and he swallowed everything Bruce had to give him.

It was probably one of the wildest orgasms Bruce had ever had. He collapsed on the bed, breathless. His body felt shaky and he needed few seconds to get his shit together. By the time he figured that he should probably return the favor, Clark was already sitting on the bed next to his chest watching Bruce’s face with worry in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Clark asked him.

Bruce let out an exhausted laugh. “As much as one can be after one of the best blowjobs of their life.”

Clark chuckled and then leaned down to kiss the other man. The billionaire grunted surprisingly into the kiss, but didn’t protest. Instead, he placed his hand on Clark’s nape and deepened the kiss. He tasted himself, but it was definitely worth it.

When they finally pulled apart, Clark pressed his forehead to Bruce’s. When the other people Bruce had been with, did this to him, he felt uncomfortable and quickly pushed them away, even Selina. With Clark, though, it felt natural, and they didn’t break eye contact. There was honestly so much love in Clark’s gaze it felt overwhelming and Bruce couldn’t resist the need to kiss him again.

Clark wrapped his arms around Bruce’s waist and pulled him closer. The kiss wasn’t as heated as before. It was tender, gentle and exploring. Clark naturally moved to kiss Bruce’s jaw and caressed the exposed skin on Bruce’s sides. It made Bruce clinch in surprise, but once he was prepared for the touch, he pressed the hands right back on his hips.

“I should probably take care of your-“

“No,” Clark interrupted him kindly but decisively.

Bruce looked Clark in the eye and the reporter looked right back. He felt like Clark needed to do this, to let him come without coming himself. The billionaire didn’t know what he was trying to prove, but if Clark didn’t want it, he wouldn’t force him.

“Okay,” he murmured and kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth.

They slowly moved to more comfortable positions and when Clark was safely laying under the sheets, Bruce turned away to take of his clothes. Clark wasn’t watching him, probably sensing Bruce’s uneasiness.

The billionaire finally threw the clothes on the floor, not bothering to fold them for now and quickly got under the covers next to Clark. He immediately felt better even though he knew that if Clark wanted to, he could still see him.

“Bruce?” Clark asked softly, breaking the silence.

“Hm?” Bruce turned to see the other man. He was watching him now.

“Do you think I could hug you?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. Of course Clark would love to cuddle. He shifted towards him and threw his arm over Clark’s waist. He couldn’t see it in the dark, but he knew the reporter was smiling, as he slowly wrapped his arm around Bruce’s back and pulled him closer to his body, pressing their chest together and making Bruce lie on his right side.

Bruce didn’t mind. Clark’s body was so warm in the contrast of that thing in the warehouse and it made him feel safe. He pressed his head against Clark’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting himself to drown in the comfortable warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say I wasn't entirely sure if I should throw smut there because I'm still anxious about writing it and if it fits into the fic, so... btw, Jason doesn't swear at the dinner because he knows better than to swear in front of Alfred ;)


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